GATHERED    SKETCHES 

FROM 

THE  EARLY  HISTORY 

OF 

NEW  HAMPSHIRE  AND  VERMONT; 

CONTAINING 

VIVID  AND  INTERESTING  ACCOUNTS  OF  A  GREAT  VARIETY 

OF   THE 

ADVENTURES  OF  OUR  FOREFATHERS, 

of  oiljer  Jjiuifoenis  of  <®Ib,en    $i 
ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED. 

EDITED    BY 

FRANCIS    CHASE,    M.  A. 
»  * 


CLAREMONT,  N.  H.  : 
TRACY.     KENNEY     &      CQ. 

]  8  5  0  , 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Tear  1856,  by 

TRACY,  KENNEY  &  CO., 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  New  Hampshire. 


STEREOTYPED  AT  THE 
BOBTON     STEREOTYPE    FOUNDRY. 


PEEFACE. 


GENTLE  reader,  you  have  before  you  a  collection  of  Sketches, 
gathered  from  the  early  history  of  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont ; 
or,  perhaps  we  ought  to  say,  a  selection,  for  the  first  period  of  the 
existence  of  these  two  states  is  a  deep  and  copious  mine,  from 
which  the  diligent  student  may  exhume  any  number  of  incidents, 
which  it  would  be  well  worth  while,  both  as  a  matter  of  curiosity 
and  of  information,  to  place  before  the  reading  public. 

In  this  selection  you  will  find  incidents  both  grave  and  gay, 
both  pathetic  and  amusing ;  some  of  them  of  considerable  histori* 
cal  importance,  and  others  which  some  persons  might  think  almost 
trifling.  But  it  is  intended  that  the  following  pages  shall  illustrate 
as  fully  as  possible  the  character  of  the  times  in  which  our  ances 
tors  lived.  Their  life,  as  is  ours,  was  made  up  of  trifles  and 
weightier  things  combined,  and  the  best  illustration  is  that  in 
which  minor  matters  have  their  due  proportion.  We  hope  they 
will  not  be  found  too  numerous  in  this  attempt. 

The  Editor  takes  no  credit  to  himself  for  his  portion  of  the 
work.  His  work  has  been,  for  the  most  part,  merely  to  select  and 
arrange,  adding  here  and  there  a  note  or  a  prefatory  remark  to 
clear  up  the  meaning  of  the  text,  or  to  give  additional  information. 
Such  articles  as  have  been  taken  from  connected  histories  have  of 
course  been  altered  to  make  them  clear  and  intelligible  when 
standing  by  themselves.  Matters  not  connected  with  the  main 
point  of  the  story  have  been  pruned  out,  and  in  some  cases  eluci 
dating  sentences  have  been  put  in  j  occasionally  too,  an  inelegant 

(3) 


4  PREFACE. 

expression  has  been  amended.  The  biographical  and  a  few  other 
articles  have  been  prepared  expressly  for  this  work.  Some  frag 
ments  have  been  found  in  looking  over  old  files  of  newspapers  j 
but  most  of  them  have  been  culled  from  books  now  out  of  print, 
and  inaccessible  to  the  majority  of  readers.  Where  the  origin  of 
an  article  has  been  certainly  known,  it  has  been  duly  credited. 
The  Editor  takes  pleasure  in  acknowledging  his  indebtedness  to 
the  following  excellent  works :  Williams's  History  of  Vermont, 
Belknap's  History  of  New  Hampshire,  Drake's  Indian  Captivities, 
Farmer  and  Moore's  Historical  Collections  of  New  Hampshire, 
De  Puy's  Ethan  Allen  and  the  Green  Mountain  Heroes  of  '76,  and 
Powers's  interesting  little  History  of  the  Coos  Country.  For  the 
excellent  fragment  of  history  entitled  "  Kilburn's  Defence,"  he  is 
indebted  to  the  faithful  pen  of  Dr.  E.  Morse,  of  Walpole,  N.  H. 
Above  all,  he  would  offer  his  sincerest  thanks  to  those  kind 
friends,  without  whose  generous  assistance  he  could,  in  his  present 
circumstances,  by  no  means  have  performed  the  kbor  of  preparing 
the  present  work.  He  indulges  the  hope  that  their  joint  labors 
will  be  kindly  received,  and  that  this  humble  book  may,  in  the 
houses  of  both  the  lofty  and  the  lowly  of  New  England,  be  a  source 
of  lasting  pleasure.  To  the  aged  may  it  bring  up  pleasant  pictures 
of  former  days ;  to  the  rising  generation  may  it  serve  as  an  instruc 
tive  history  of  times  past,  and  as  an  agreeable  substitute  for  the 
useless  works  of  fiction  which  are  scattered  in  such  profusion 
throughout  the  land. 


CONTENTS. 


Introductory  Chapter, 7 

The  Red  Man's  Stratagem, 13 

Death  of  Major  Waldron, 18 

The  Captivity  and  Sufferings  of  Miss  Sarah  Gerish,  ....  21 

Three  Narratives, 25 

Lovewell's  Fight, 32 

The  Boar  and  the  Bear, 39 

The  Captivity  of  Mrs.  Isabella  M'Coy,  of  Epsom,  N.  H.,  .     .  46 

Peabody's  Leap, 54 

Kilburn's  Defence, 62 

Indian  Bridge, 71 

The  Captivity  and  Sufferings  of  Mrs.  Jemima  Howe,    ...  75 

Hilton,  of  Famous  Memory, 91 

Indian  Fun, 97 

The  Headless  Spectre, 99 

Attack  upon  Number  Four, 102 

The  Indians  at  War ;  their  Usages  and  Customs,      ....  106 

A  Witch  Story  of  Olden  Time, 116 

1*  (5) 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

Baker's  Retreat, 121 

Destruction  of  the  Indian  Village  of  St.  Francis, 124 

Peter  Brown's  Temperance  Lesson, 131 

Incidents  from  the  Life  of  Colonel  Ethan  Allen, 135 

Seizure  of  Captain  Remember  Baker  by  the  Yorkers,  .     .     .  143 

Female  Courage, 149 

The  Battle  of  Bennington, 151 

Anecdotes  from  the  Life  of  General  Stark, 158 

An  Act  of  Courage,   .     .     .  • 165 

The  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain, 170 

The  New  Hampshire  Rangers, 174 

The  Burning  of  Royalton, 181 


INCIDENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER. 

No  history  is  more  interesting  to  a  nation  than 
the  narrative  of  its  own  origin  and  progress.  No 
events  are  more  attractive  to  young  and  old  than 
the  incidents  of  varied  suffering  and  prosperity,  of 
romance  and  of  sturdy  fact,  which  cluster  around 
the  beginning  of  their  country's  existence.  The 
polished  writers  of  Greece  and  Rome  knew  this, 
and  because  Homer  and  Virgil  sang  of  these  things, 
their  vivid  and  graceful  verses  were  in  the  mouths 
of  the  lowest  as  well  as  the  highest  of  their  coun 
trymen.  Greeks  and  Romans  alike  were  fain  to 
magnify  into  gods  and  heroes  the  founders  of  their 
respective  empires.  The  exploits  of  Jason,  Her 
cules,  and  Romulus  were  magnified  by  tradition  into 
superhuman  actions  ;  and.  their  heroic  achievements 
were  related  in  hovel  and  palace  with  equal  pride 
and  admiration.  In  this  respect,  the  feelings  that 
actuated  ancient  nations  prevail  in  the  same  degree 
among  modern  ones.  And  perhaps  there  is  no 

(7) 


8  INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth  that  has  so  much 
patriotic  pride  in  their  ancestry  as  our  own.  A 
son  of  that  state  whose  green  and  beautiful  moun 
tains  have  given  it  a  name,  feels  his  bosom  glow  as 
warmly  when  the  name  of  Ethan  Allen  is  mentioned, 
as  did  the  Greek  when  speaking  of  his  Hercules,  or 
the  Roman  when  relating  the  deeds  of  Romulus. 
There  is  no  nation  indeed  which  has  more  reason 
to  be  proud  of  its  founders  than  our  own,  and 
there  are  no  states,  within  the  broad  boundaries  of 
our  country,  whose  early  history  is  fraught  with 
incidents  so  interesting,  or  so  full  of  exciting  ad 
venture,  as  is  that  of  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont. 
The  first  settlers  of  these  states  were  men  of  strong 
arms  and  brave  hearts,  who  came  with  wives  as 
energetic  and  fearless  as  themselves,  to  hew  them 
out  a  home  from  among  the  dense  and  tangled  for 
ests  which  then  covered  the  land.  They  were  men 
fitted  either  for  action  or  endurance.  They  were 

Accustomed    to    the   hardships   of   a   frontier   life. 

/They  understood  the  ways  of  the  savage  tribes 
which  surrounded  them,  and  were  most  of  them 
more  than  a  match  for  their  wily  foe  in  all  the  arts 
and  stratagems  of  Indian  warfare.  True,  they  were 
sometimes  overpowered  by  numbers,  or  lured  by  the 
savages  into  traps  set  for  their  destruction  ;  but  still 
it  seems  almost  a  wonder  that  they  were  able  to 
exist,  or  to  stand  at  all  against  a  numerous  and 
cunning  enemy.  Their  settlements  were  scattered  ; 
so  much  so,  that  frequently  one  family  was  located 
several  miles  distant  from  any  other.  Such  a 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER.  9 

position  was  of  course  exposed  at  all  times  to  open 
and  secret  attacks  from  a  savage  foe,  and  called 
for  the  most  extreme  caution  on  the  part  of  the 
adventurous  settlers.  Each  cabin  was  a  castle,  that 
must  be  defended  by  the  inhabitants  to  the  death. 
The  story  of  "  Kilburn's  Defence  "  will  be  found  to 
illustrate  what  has  been  said  on  this  point. 

There  seems  to  be  a  peculiar  propriety  in  con 
necting  the  early  histories  of  New  Hampshire  and 
Vermont.  True,  New  Hampshire  was  settled  by 
the  whites  one  hundred  years  before  any  permanent 
location  had  been  made  by  civilized  persons  within 
the  borders  of  Vermont ;  still,  the  same  tribes  of 
Indians  roamed  and  hunted  over  the  whole  territory. 
The  French  and  Indians  of  Canada,  when  they 
dashed  down  upon  the  infant  settlements  of  New 
Hampshire,  took  their  course  over  the  verdant 
mountains  of  Vermont  and  along  the  meadows  of 
the  Connecticut  Valley  ;  and  when  they  returned, 
they  dragged  their  unwilling  and  woe-worn  captives 
through  the  same  forests  and  across  the  same  green 
hills.  They  were  connected  too,  in  the  eye  of  the 
law,  by  grants  from  the  crown  of  England  ;  which 
made  the  western  boundary  of  New  Hampshire 
extend  to  within  twenty  miles  of  the  Hudson  River. 
The  State  of  New  York  did  indeed  set  up  an  op 
posing  claim  to  the  land  west  of  the  Connecticut 
River ;  but  the  claims  of  New  Hampshire  had  been 
first  acknowledged  by  many  of  the  actual  settlers, 
and  though  New  York  tried  to  enforce  her  authority 
she  could  not  succeed.  For  some  time  previous  to 


10  INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER. 

the  revolutionary  war  quite  a  fierce  strife  was  car 
ried  on  between  the  inhabitants  of  the  New  Hamp 
shire  grants  and  the  New  York  officials,  in  which 
the  former  were  assisted  and  abetted  by  the  author 
ities  of  the  state  from  which  they  had  derived  their 
lands.  No  apology  need  therefore  be  made  for 
uniting  in  one  volume  incidents  from  the  early  his 
tory  of  these  sister  states.  They  were  connected 
in  actual  fact,  and  it  is  well  they  should  be  so  in 
whatever  resembles  an  historical  account. 

A  brief  sketch  of  the  settlement  of  New  Hamp 
shire  and  Vermont  may  be  useful  as  a  chain  to  con 
nect  together  the  following  detached  narratives. 
As  early  as  the  year  1623  the  English  had  begun 
settlements  on  the  Piscataqua  River.  One  David 
Thompson,  with  others,  erected  salt  works  and  es 
tablished  a  fishery  at  Portsmouth.  Edward  and 
William  Hilton  went  eight  miles  farther  up  the 
river,  to  Dover.  Thompson  did  not  remain  long  in 
his  location,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  the  estab 
lishment  he  had  made  was  entirely  deserted.  The 
Hiltons  of  Dover  played  quite  a  prominent  part  in 
the  early  history  of  this  state,  and  some  of  their 
descendants  have  been  quite  famous  for  their  brave 
ry,  prowess,  and  skill  in  Indian  warfare.  It  is  of 
one  of  these  that  an  incident  is  related  in  the  fol 
lowing  pages.  The  early  settlers  in  New  Hamp 
shire  never  pretended  that  they  sought  a  home  in 
the  wilderness  for  the  sake  of  religious  liberty. 
They  declared  openly  that  they  came  to  the  Piscat 
aqua  River  to  fish  and  to  trade,  and  they  hoped  to 


INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER.  11 

secure  an  abundant  compensation  for  their  labor. 
It  was  deemed  probable  that  stores  of  precious 
metals  would  be  found  in  the  mountainous  regions 
of  New  Hampshire  ;  and  stories  of  beautiful  lakes 
and  rivers  abounding  in  fish  were  circulated,  and 
received  considerable  credence.  Having  their  at 
tention  turned  at  first  to  such  objects,  they  neglect 
ed  agriculture  ;  and  the  growth  of  the  settlements 
was  consequently  slow  for  a  number  of  years.  A 
number  of  townships  were  afterwards  granted  by 
Massachusetts,  within  the  borders  of  New  Hamp 
shire,  but  were  afterwards  given  up  to  the  latter 
state.  Among  these  were  Hopkinton,  Charlestown, 
Hinsdale,  <fec.  Epsom,  N.  H.,  was  chartered  in 
1727,  and  settled  from  the  neighborhood  of  Dover. 
Hence  Mrs.  Isabella  M'Coy  was  carried  captive  in 
1747.  Hollis  was  settled  in  1731  by  Captain  Peter 
Powers.  The  interesting  story  of  "  the  Boar  and 
the  Bear  "  is  related  of  him. 

In  Vermont,  the  first  settlement  was  made  by  the 
whites  in  1724.  The  government  of  Massachusetts 
in  that  year  erected  Fort  Dummer,  near  what  is 
now  Brattleboro7.  Soon  *after,  Startwell's  and 
Bridgeman's  forts  were  built  a  little  below,  in  .the 
present  town  of  Yernon,  Yt.  It  was  at  the  latter 
that  the  tragical  event  occurred  which  is  described 
in  the  narrative  of  the  captivity  of  Mrs.  Howe. 
These  forts  were  formerly  included  in  the  township 
of  Hinsdale,  New  Hampshire,  but  were  given  up  to 
Yermont  when  the  two  states  separated.  After  the 
establishment  of  Fort  Duminer,  the  settlement  of 


12  INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER. 

the  Connecticut  valley  went  on  rapidly.  The  first 
settlement  by  the  English  on  the  west  side  of  the 
Green  Mountains  was  made  at  Bennington  in  1761, 
although  a  charter  had  been  granted  for  the  town 
in  1749  by  Benning  Wentworth,  governor  of  New 
Hampshire.  The  French  had  located  themselves  on 
the  banks  of  Lake  Champlain,  opposite  to  Crown 
Point,  but  evacuated  both  places  when  General 
Amherst  captured  Ticonderoga  in  1759.  The 
Abenaqui  or  St.  Francis  tribe  of  Indians  were  the 
greatest  and  most  powerful  enemies  the  English  had 
among  the  denizens  of  the  forest.  These  were  scat 
tered  all  along  the  northern  part  of  New  Hamp 
shire  and  Vermont,  and  throughout  Maine.  This 
was  the  tribe  that  espoused  most  strongly  the  cause 
of  the  French  in  their  wars  against  the  colonists. 
From  first  to  last,  they  were  the  cause  of  a  vast 
deal  of  bloodshed  and  misery  to  our  ancestors.  A 
portion  of  the  tribe  is  still  existing  in  Canada ; 
but  while  the  descendants  of  the  English  have  con 
stantly  gone  forward  in  wealth  and  prosperity,  and 
in  all  the  arts  of  civilization  and  refinement,  these 
down-trodden  sons  of  the  wilderness  have  sunk 
lower  and  lower,  until  they  are  hardly  the  shadows 
even  of  what  they  once  were.  While  we  drop  the 
tear  of  pity  over  the  sufferings  of  our  fathers,  let 
us  not  fail  generously  to  commiserate  the  wretched 
condition  of  those  who  caused  these  sufferings. 
Parcete  victis. 


THE  RED  MAN'S  STRATAGEM. 

AN   INCIDENT  IN   THE   EARLY   HISTORY   OF   COCHECO. 
1666. 

THE  early  settlers  of  Cocheco  were  exposed  at 
all  times  to  the  relentless  hostility  of  the  Indians. 
No  precautions  could  circumvent  their  stratagems. 
They  came  at  all  times  and  in  all  seasons,  with  the 
tomahawk  in  one  hand  and  the  torch  in  the  other, 
to  massacre  and  destroy.  The  traveller  was  cut 
down  on  his  journey,  the  husbandman  was  butchered 
in  his  field,  the  women  and  children  were  assaulted 
at  the  fireside,  and  consigned  to  an  ignominious 
death,  or  a  captivity  worse  than  death. 

In  the  summer  of  1666,  a  band  of  savages  made  a 
descent  upon  the  infant  settlement.  Their  approach 
having,  on  this  occasion,  been  observed,  time  was 
afforded  for  such  of  the  inhabitants  as  could  not  do 
good  service  at  bush  fighting,  to  retreat  to  the  block 
houses  or  garrisons.  The  women  and  children  were 
hurriedly  gathered  within  the  palisades  of  their 
defences,  while  the  rifle  of  the  husband  and  father 
for  a  moment  checked  the  advances  of  the  enemy. 
There  were  at  this  time  some  half  a  dozen  of  these 
block-houses  at  Cocheco,  all  of  which,  with  one 
2  (W) 


14  THE  BED  MAN'S  STRATAGEM. 

exception,  were  successfully  defended  against  this 
assault  of  the  savages.  The  manner  in  which  this 
one  was  captured  shows  at  once  the  wily  character 
of  the  enemy  against  which  our  fathers  had  to  guard 
their  possessions  and  their  lives,  and  the  persever 
ance  with  which  that  enemy  labored  to  effect  their 
machinations. 

The  Indians,  having  been  repulsed  in  their  first 
onset  upon  the  settlement,  retired,  carrying  with 
them  the  bodies  of  several  of  their  warriors,  who 
had  been  shot  down  in  the  fight.  Two  or  three  of 
the  white  men  had  also  been  killed.  Their  bodies 
were  also  dragged  off,  and,  having  been  scalped  and 
otherwise  horribly  mutilated,  were  left  as  a  prey  to 
the  beasts  of  the  field  ;  while  the  remains  of  the 
Indian  braves  who  had  fallen  were  interred  with  all 
the  forms  and  ceremonies  of  their  race.  The  in 
habitants  of  Cocheco  were  congratulating  them 
selves  upon  their  successful  escape  from  the  enemy. 
Some  of  their  little  band,  it  was  true,  had  fallen  — 
some,  too,  whom  they  could  but  illy  spare.  Their 
voices  hereafter  would  be  missed  in  the  council,  and 
their  arms  in  the  fight.  But  such  things  were  of 
common  occurrence,  and  the  cares  of  a  precarious 
existence  left  little  time  for  mourning  to  the  living. 

The  Indians,  though  repulsed,  had  not  abandoned 
their  designs  upon  Cocheco.  They  retired  only  to 
devise  new,  and,  as  they  hoped,  more  successful 
stratagems  for  surprising  the  white  man.  For  sev 
eral  days  the  watchfulness  of  the  inhabitants  cir 
cumvented  all  their  machinations,  during  which  they 


THE  RED   MAN'S   STRATAGEM.  15 

did  not  deem  it  prudent  to  show  their  copper-col 
ored  visages  within  the  range  or  reach  of  a  rifle  shot 
from  the  block-houses. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  the  first  attack  they  dis 
covered  that  one  of  the  block-houses,  which  was 
built  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  could  be  entered 
on  the  water  side,  provided  any  means  could  be  de 
vised  to  reach  it  unobserved.  To  proceed  to  it 
openly  in  their  canoes,  and  make  the  attempt,  either 
by  day  or  night,  was  out  of  the  question,  as  the 
inhabitants  kept  a  strict  lookout,  and  would  have 
bored  a  bullet  hole  through  the  head  of  the  first 
Indian  that  came  within  their  reach.  In  this  block 
house  were  four  men,  with  their  families,  in  all  about 
twenty.  The  Indians,  having  discovered  an  open 
ing  to  the  garrison,  were  not  long  in  devising  a 
way  to  enter  it. 

About  half  a  mile  above  the  settlement  was  a 
mowing  field,  the  grass  of  which  had  been  cut  and 
made  into  cocks  by  some  of  the  Cocheco  men,  the 
day  before  the  descent  of  the  Indians  upon  them. 
It  was  ready  for  the  barn,  and  as  soon  as  the  Indiana 
should  retire,  it  was  the  intention  of  the  owners  to 
cart  it  in.  Early  in  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day, 
however,  they  discovered  that  the  enemy,  having 
exhausted  every  other  means  of  annoying  them, 
were  about  to  commence  an  assault  with  and  under 
cover  of  the  hay.  Having  procured  a  cart  belong 
ing  to  the  settlement,  which  they  had  found  within 
their  reach,  they  placed  a  large  quantity  of  the 
hay  upon  it,  and  having  dragged  it  within  a  short 


16 

distance  of  the  garrison,  set  it  on  fire,  and,  under 
cover  of  the  burning  mass,  attempted  to  back  it  up 
to  and  burn  with  it  the  garrison. 

Previous  to  this,  however,  they  had,  as  it  seemed, 
in  mere  wantonness,  set  some  fifteen  or  twenty  cocks 
of  the  hay  adrift  in  the  river,  which  were  floating 
slowly  down  towards  the  garrison.  The  besieged 
had  observed  this  movement,  but,  suspecting  noth 
ing,  directed  their  attention  exclusively  to  the  dan 
ger  which  was  pressing  upon  them  on  the  other  side 
of  the  garrison.  The  cart,  with  its  contents  in  a 
mass  of  flames,  was  coming  down  upon  them.  The 
men  of  the  garrison  stationed  themselves  at  the  loop 
holes,  with  their  guns,  to  pick  off  as  many  of  the 
enemy,  as  they  approached,  as  they  could  reach ; 
while  the  women  and  children  brought  up  water 
from  the  river,  which  they  obtained  through  the 
door  which  the  Indians  had  previously  discovered, 
to  extinguish  the  flames. 

The  burning  hay  had  reached  the  garrison,  and 
was  sending  its  lurid  flames  far  above  the  walls  ; 
yet,  as  the  house  was  built  of  unhewn  logs,  massive 
and  strong,  the  fire  made  but  little  impression  upon 
it.  More  than  one  Indian  who  had  assisted  in  push 
ing  down  the  cart  had  paid  for  his  temerity  with 
his  life ;  the  muskets  of  the  besieged  kept  them  at 
bay,  or  cut  them  down,  as  they  exposed  themselves  ; 
and  the  fire  from  the  hay  would  have  been  extin 
guished,  and  the  garrison  successfully  defended,  had 
it  not  been  carried  in  another  quarter. 

While  the  inmates  of  the  garrison  were  thus  de- 


17 

fending  themselves  from  the  attack  on  the  land  side, 
the  hay  in  the  river  had  floated  down  opposite  the 
garrison,  having  gradually  drawn  towards  the  shore 
as  it  approached  ;  and  as  the  besieged,  having  driven 
the  Indians  from  the  cover  of  the  burning  hay,  were 
employed  in  extinguishing  it,  a  dozen  savages  sprang 
upon  them,  as  it  were,  from  the  bosom  of  the  river, 
entering  the  garrison  from  the  water  side.  Each 
hay  cock  had  concealed  the  head  of  an  Indian,  as 
he  swam  down  the  river  beneath  it ! 

The  inmates  of  the  garrison  who  escaped  the 
tomahawk,  with  the  exception  of  some  half  a  dozen 
who  succeeded  in  reaching  one  of  the  neighboring 
houses,  were  carried  off  as  captives  into  Canada. 
Some  of  the  more  feeble  died  on  the  journey,  and 
were  left  by  the  wayside  ;  others  lived  to  return, 
after  years  of  hardship  and  suffering,  to  their 
friends. 

2* 


DEATH    OF    MAJOR    WALDRON. 

DOVER,  N.  H.,  JUNE  27,    1689. 

IN  August,  1676,  King  Philip  was  slain.  Some 
of  his  followers  took  refuge  among  the  Penacooks, 
others  with  the  eastern  Indians  —  the  Ossipees  and 
Pequawketts.  Hostilities  were  renewed  through  the 
influence  of  these  refugees,  and  at  length  two  com 
panies  of  soldiers  were  sent  from  Boston  to  Dover. 
Here  they  found  a  large  number  of  Indians  at  the 
house  of  Major  Waldron,  whom  they  regarded  as 
their  friend  and  father.  The  Boston  companies  had 
orders  to  seize  all  Indians  who  had  been  engaged 
in  King  Philip's  war,  and,  recognizing  such  among 
the  number,  would  have  fallen  upon  them  at  once 
had  they  not  been  dissuaded  by  Major  Waldron, 
who  proposed  to  have  a  training  and  sham  fight  the 
next  day,  in  order  to  take  them  by  stratagem.  This 
having  been  done,  they  were  all  seized  and  disarmed. 
A  separation  was  then  made  ;  the  Penacooks  and 
those  who  had  made  peace  the  autumn  before  were 
set  at  liberty  ;  while  the  refugees  —  the  strange  In 
dians,  as  they  were  called  —  were  retained  as  pris 
oners  to  the  number  of  two  hundred.  Seven  or 
eight,  who  were  convicted  of  having  killed  Eug- 

(18) 


DEATH  OP  MAJOR  WALDRON.  19 

lishmen,  were  executed.  The  rest  were  sold  into 
slavery  in  foreign  parts. 

Thirteen  years  passed  since  the  seizure  of  the  In 
dians  at  Dover ;  but  they  still  remembered  it,  and 
longed  for  vengeance.  Some  of  those  who  had 
been  sold  into  slavery  had  returned  to  excite  their 
brethren,  and  they  soon  broke  out  in  hostilities. 

On  the  evening  of  the  27th  of  June,  1689,  two 
squaws  applied  at  each  of  the  garrisoned  houses  in 
Dover  for  lodging.  The  people,  fearing  no  danger, 
readily  admitted  them.  Mesandowit,  one  of  the 
chiefs,  was  entertained  at  Major  Waldron's.  "  Broth 
er  Waldron"  said  he,  with  his  usual  familiarity,  while 
they  were  at  supper,  "  what  would  you  do  if  the  strange 
Indians  should  come  ?  "  "  I  can  assemble  a  hundred 
men"  was  the  reply,  "  by  lifting  up  my  finger"  With 
this  fatal  confidence  they  retired  to  rest.  When  all 
was  quiet,  those  within  opened  the  gates  and  gave 
the  signal.  The  savages  rushed  in  and  began  their 
bloody  work.  Waldron,  though  eighty  years  of 
age,  seized  his  sword  and  drove  the  assailants  back 
through  two  doors,  but  when  returning  for  his  other 
arms,  was  stunned  with  a  hatchet,  and  fell.  They 
then  dragged  him  into  his  hall,  seated  him  in  an 
elbow  chair  upon  a  long  table,  and  insultingly  asked, 
"  Who  shall  judge  Indian  now  ?  "  After  feasting 
upon  provisions  which  they  compelled  the  rest  of 
the  family  to  procure,  each  one  with  a  knife  cut 
gashes  in  Waldron's  breast,  saying,  "  I  cross  out  my 
account  !  "  They  then  cut  off  his  nose  and  ears,  and 
forced  them  into  his  mouth  ;  and  when,  weakened 


20  DEATH  OF  MAJOR   WALDRON. 

from  the  loss  of  blood,  he  was  about  to  fall  from 
the  table,  his  own  sword  was  held  under  him,  which 
put  an  end  to  his  tortures.  At  other  houses,  similar 
acts  of  cruelty  were  perpetrated,  and  in  the  whole, 
twenty-three  persons  were  killed,  and  twenty-nine 
carried  prisoners  to  Canada,  who  were  shortly  sold 
to  the  French.  Many  houses  were  burned,  and 
much  property  was  plundered  ;  but  so  expeditious 
were  the  Indians,  that  they  had  fled  beyond  reach 
before  the  neighboring  people  could  be  collected. 


THE    CAPTIVITY    AND    SUFFERINGS    OF 
MISS   SARAH   GERISH, 

WHO  WAS  TAKEN  AT  THE  SACKING  OF  DOVER,  IN  1689,  BY  THE 
INDIANS,  AS  COMMUNICATED  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  COTTON  MATHER 
BY  THE  REV.  JOHN  PIKE,  MINISTER  OF  DOVER. 

SARAH  GERISH,  daughter  of  Captain  John  Gerish, 
of  Quochecho,  or  Cocheco,  was  a  very  beautiful  and 
ingenious  damsel,  about  seven  years  of  age,  and  hap 
pened  to  be  lodging  at  the  garrison  of  Major  Wal- 
dron,  her  affectionate  grandfather,  when  the  Indians 
brought  that  horrible  destruction  upon  it,  on  the 
night  of  the  27th  of  June,  1689.  She  was  always 
very  fearful  of  the  Indians  ;  but  fear,  may  we  think, 
now  surprised  her  when  they  fiercely  bade  her  go 
into  a  certain  chamber  and  call  the  people  out.  She 
obeyed  ;  but  finding  only  a  little  child  in  bed  in  the 
room,  she  got  into  the  bed  with  it,  and  hid  herself 
in  the  clothes  as  well  as  she  could. 

The  fell  savages  quickly  pulled  her  out,  and  made 
her  dress  for  a  march,  but  led  her  away  with  no 
more  than  one  stocking  upon  her,  on  a  terrible 
march  through  the  thick  woods,  and  a  thousand 
other  miseries,  till  they  came  to  the  Norway  Planes.* 
From  thence  they  made  her  go  to  the  end  of  Winni- 

*  The  "  Norway  Planes  "  are  in  the  present  town  of  Rochester,  N.  H. 

(21) 


22  THE   CAPTIVITY   AND  SUFFERINGS 

piseogec  Lake  ;  thence  eastward,  through  horrid 
swamps,  where  sometimes  they  were  obliged  to 
scramble  over  huge  trees  fallen  by  storm  or  age,  for 
a  vast  way  together,  and  sometimes  they  must  climb 
up  long,  steep,  tiresome,  and  almost  inaccessible 
mountains. 

Her  first  master  was  an  Indian  named  Sebun- 
dowit,  a  dull  sort  of  fellow,  and  not  such  a  devil  as 
many  of  them  were  ;  but  he  sold  her  to  a  fellow 
who  was  a  more  harsh  and  mad  sort  of  a  dragon. 
He  carried  her  away  to  Canada. 

A  long  and  sad  journey  now  ensued,  through  the 
midst  of  a  hideous  desert,  in  the  depth  of  a  dread 
ful  winter.  And  who  can  enumerate  the  frights  she 
endured  before  the  end  of  her  journey  !  Once  her 
master  commanded  her  to  loosen  some  of  her  upper 
garments,  and  stand  against  a  tree  while  he  charged 
his  gun  ;  whereat  the  poor  child  shrieked  out,  "  He 
is  going  to  kill  me ! "  God  knows  what  he  was 
going  to  do  ;  but  the  villain  having  charged  his  gun, 
he  called  her  from  the  tree,  and  forbore  doing  her 
any  damage.  Upon  another  time,  her  master  or 
dered  her  to  run  along  the  shore  with  some  Indian 
girls,  while  he  paddled  up  the  river  in  his  canoe. 
As  the  girls  were  passing  a  precipice,  a  tawny 
wench  violently  pushed  her  headlong  into  the  river  ; 
but  so  it  fell  out  that  in  this  very  place  of  her  fall 
the  bushes  from  the  shore  hung  over  the  water,  so 
that  she  was  enabled  to  get  hold  of  them,  and  thus 
saved  herself.  The  Indians  asked  her  how  she  be 
came  so  wet,  but  she  did  not  dare  to  tell  them,  from 


OP  MISS   SARAH  GERISH.  23 

fear  of  the  resentment  of  her  that  had  so  nearly 
deprived  her  of  life  already.  And  here  it  may  be 
remarked  that  it  is  almost  universally  true  that 
young  Indians,  both  male  and  female,  are  as  much 
to  be  dreaded  by  captives  as  those  of  maturer  years, 
and  in  many  cases  much  more  so  ;  for,  unlike  culti 
vated  people,  they  have  no  restraint  upon  their  mis 
chievous  and  savage  propensities,  which  they  indulge 
in  cruelties  surpassing  any  examples  here  related. 
They  often  vie  with  each  other  in  attempting  exces 
sive  acts  of  torture. 

Once,  being  spent  with  travelling  all  day,  and 
lying  down  wet  and  exhausted  at  night,  she  fell  into 
so  profound  a  sleep  that  in  the  morning  she  waked 
not.  Her  barbarous  captors  decamped  from  the 
place  of  their  night's  rest,  leaving  this  little  captive 
girl  asleep,  and  covered  with  a  snow  that  in  the  night 
had  fallen  ;  but  at  length  awaking,  what  agonies 
may  you  imagine  she  was  in  on  finding  herself  left 
a  prey  for  bears  and  wolves,  and  without  any  suste- 
tenance,  in  a  howling  wilderness,  many  scores  of 
leagues  from  any  plantation  !  In  this  dismal  situa 
tion,  however,  she  had  fortitude  sufficient  to  attempt 
to  follow  them.  And  here  again,  the  snow  which 
had  been  her  covering  upon  the  cold  ground,  to  her 
great  discomfort,  was  now  her  only  hope,  for  she 
could  just  discern  by  it  the  trace  of  the  Indians. 
How  long  it  was  before  she  overtook  them  is  not 
told  us,  but  she  joined  them  and  continued  her  cap 
tivity. 

Now  the  young  Indians  began  to  terrify  her  by 


24  MISS   SARAH   GERTSH. 

constantly  reminding  her  that  she  was  shortly  to  be 
roasted  to  death.  One  evening  much  fuel  was  prepared 
between  two  logs,  which  they  told  her  was  for  her 
torture.  A  mighty  fire  being  made,  her  master  called 
her  to  him,  and  told  her  that  she  should  presently  be 
burnt  alive.  At  first  she  stood  amazed  ;  then  burst 
into  tears  ;  and  then  she  hung  about  her  tiger  of  a 
master,  begging  of  him,  with  an  inexpressible  an 
guish,  to  save  her  from  the  fire.  Thereupon  the 
monster  so  far  relented  as  to  tell  her  "  that  if  she 
would  be  a  good  girl  she  should  not  be  burnt." 

At  last  they  arrived  at  Canada,  and  she  was  car 
ried  to  the  Lord  Intendant's  house,  where  many  per 
sons  of  quality  took  much  notice  of  her.  It  was  a 
week  after  this  that  she  remained  in  the  Indians' 
hands  before  the  price  of  her  ransom  could  be  agreed 
upon.  But  then  the  Lady  Intendant  sent  her  to  the 
nunnery,  where  she  was  comfortably  provided  for  ; 
and  it  was  the  design,  as  was  said,  for  to  have 
brought  her  up  in  the  Romish  religion,  and  then 
to  have  married  her  unto  the  son  of  the  Lord  In 
tendant. 

She  was  kindly  used  there,  until  Sir  William 
Phipps,  lying  before  Quebec,  did,  upon  exchange  of 
prisoners,  obtain  her  liberty.  After  sixteen  months7 
captivity,  she  was  restored  unto  her  friends,  who 
had  the  consolation  of  having  this  their  desirable 
daughter  again  with  them,  returned  as  it  were  from 
the  dead.  But  this  dear  child  was  not  to  cheer  her 
parents'  path  for  a  long  period  ;  for,  on  arriving  at 
her  sixteenth  year,  July,  1697,  death  carried  her  off 
by  a  malignant  fever. 


THREE  NARRATIVES 

OF  EXCESSIVE  DISTRESS  OF  PERSONS  TAKEN  AT  THE  DESTRUC 
TION  OF  SALMON  FALLS,  IN  THE  STATE  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE, 
ON  THE  27TH  OF  MARCH,  1690  ;  VIZ.,  THE  CRUEL  TORTURE  OF 
ROBERT  ROGERS,  THE  FIVE  YEARS'  CAPTIVITY  OF  MEHETABLE 
GOODWIN,  AND  THE  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  OF  THOMAS  TOOGOOD. 

[From  the  Magnolia  Christi  Americana  of  Dr.  Cotton  Mather.] 

WHEN  the  news  of  the  destruction  of  Schenectady 
reached  New  England,  it  spread  great  alarm  over 
the  whole  country.  The  wise  men  gave  particular 
caution  to  all  the  frontier  posts,  urging  them  to 
keep  strict  watch,  and  to  make  strong  their  fortifi 
cations  ;  but  the  people  in  the  east  did  not  their 
duty,  and  Salmon  Falls,  a  fine  settlement  upon  a 
branch  of  Pascataqua  River,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
an  infuriated  and  cruel  enemy. 

But,  as  has  been  observed,  notwithstanding  these 
warnings,  the  people  dreamed  that  while  the  deep 
snow  of  the  winter  continued,  they  were  safe  enough, 
which  proved  as  vain  as  a  dream  of  a  dry  summer. 
Near  thirty  persons  were  slain,  and  more  than  fifty 
were  led  into  what  the  reader  will  by  and  by  call 
the  worst  captivity  in  the  world.  It  would  be  a 
long  story  to  tell  what  a  particular  share  in  this 


26  THREE   NARRATIVES. 

calamity  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  family  of  one  Clem 
ent  Short.  This  honest  man,  with  his  pious  wife 
and  three  children,  were  killed,  and  six  or  seven 
others  of  their  children  were  made  prisoners.  The 
most  of  these  arrived  safe  at  Canada,  through  a 
thousand  hardships  ;  and  the  most  of  these  were, 
with  more  than  a  thousand  mercies,  afterwards 
redeemed  from  Canada,  and  returned  unto  their 
English  friends  again.  But,  as  we  cannot  take 
notice  of  all  the  individuals,  we  will  pass  to  the 
notice  of  those  named  at  the  commencement  of  this 
narrative. 

Among  the  prisoners  was  one  Robert  Rogers, 
with  whom,  as  the  Indians  journeyed,  they  came  to 
a  hill,  where  this  man,  (being,  through  his  corpu 
lency,  called  Robin  Pork,)  being  under  such  an  intol 
erable  and  unsupportable  burden  of  Indian  luggage, 
was  not  so  able  to  travel  as  the  rest  ;  he  therefore, 
watching  for  an  opportunity,  made  his  escape.  The 
wretches,  missing  him,  immediately  went  in  pursuit 
of  him,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  found  his 
burden  cast  in  the  way,  and  the  tracks  of  his  feet 
going  out  of  the  way.  This  they  followed,  and 
found  him  hid  in  a  hollow  tree.  They  dragged  him 
out,  stripped  him,  beat  and  pricked  him,  pushed  him 
forward  with  the  points  of  their  swords,  until  they 
got  back  to  the  hill  from  whence  he  had  escaped. 
It  being  almost  night,  they  fastened  him  to  a  tree, 
with  his  hands  behind  him,  then  made  themselves  a 
supper,  singing  and  dancing  around  him,  roaring, 
and  uttering  great  and  many  signs  of  joy,  but  with 


THREE   NARRATIVES.  27 

joy  little  enough  to  the  poor  creature,  who  foresaw 
what  all  this  tended  to. 

The  Indians  next  cut  a  parcel  of  wood,  and  bring* 
ing  it  into  a  plain  place,  they  cut  off  the  top  of  a 
small  red  oak  tree,  leaving  the  trunk  for  a  stake, 
whereunto  they  bound  their  sacrifice.  They  first 
made  a  great  fire  near  this  tree  of  death,  and  bring 
ing  Rogers  unto  it,  bid  him  take  his  leave  of  his 
friends,  which  he  did  in  a  doleful  manner,  such  as 
no  pen,  though  made  of  a  harpy's  quill,  were  ablo 
to  describe  the  dolor  of  it*  They  then  allowed  him 
a  little  time  to  make  his  prayers  unto  Heaven,  which 
he  did  with  an  extreme  fervency  and  agony  ;  where 
upon  they  bound  him  to  the  stake,  and  brought  the 
rest  of  the  prisoners,  with  their  arms  tied  each  to 
the  other,  and  seated  them  round  the  fire.  This 
being  done,  they  went  behind  the  fire,  and  thrust  it 
forwards  upon  the  man,  with  much  laughter  and 
shouting ;  and  when  the  fire  had  burnt  some  time 
upon  him,  even  till  he  was  almost  suffocated,  they 
pulled  it  away  from  him,  to  prolong  his  existence. 

They  now  resumed  their  dancing  around  him,  and 
at  every  turn  they  did  with  their  knives  cut  collops 
of  his  flesh  out  of  his  naked  limbs,  and  throw  them 
with  his  blood  into  his  face.  In  this  manner  was 
their  work  continued,  until  he  expired. 

Being  now  dead,  they  set  his  body  down  upon  the 
glowing  coals  of  fire,  and  thus  left  him  tied  with  his 
back  to  the  stake,  where  he  was  found  by  some  Eng 
lish  forces  soon  after,  who  were  in  pursuit  of  these 
Indians. 


28 


THREE    NARRATIVES. 


MEHETABLE  GOODWIN,  another  of  the  captives 
of  this  band  of  Indians,  who,  it  will  be  proper  to 
notice,  were  led  by  the  renowned  Indian  chief 
Hopehood,  had  a  child  with  her  about  five  months 
old.  This,  through  hunger  and  hardship,  she  being 
unable  to  nourish  from  her  breast,  occasioned  it  to 
make  grievous  and  distressing  ejaculations.  Her 
Indian  master  told  her  that  if  the  child  were  not 
quiet,  he  would  soon  dispose  of  it,  which  caused  her 
to  use  all  possible  means  that  his  netopship*  might 
not  be  offended  ;  and  sometimes  she  would  carry  it 
from  the  fire  out  of  his  hearing,  when  she  would  sit 
down  up  to  her  waist  in  the  snow  for  several  hours 
together,  until  it  was  exhausted  and  lulled  to  sleep. 
She  thus  for  several  days  preserved  the  life  of  her 
babe,  until  he  saw  cause  to  travel  with  his  own  cubs 
farther  afield  ;  and  then,  lest  he  should  be  retarded 
in  his  travel,  he  violently  snatched  the  babe  out  of 
its  mother's  arms,  and  before  her  face  knocked  out 
its  brains  ;  and  having  stripped  it  of  its  few  rags  it 
had  hitherto  enjoyed,  ordered  the  mother  to  go 
wash  them  of  the  blood  wherewith  they  were 
stained  !  Returning  from  this  sad  and  melancholy 
task,  she  found  the  infant  hanging  by  the  neck  in 
a  forked  bough  of  a  tree.  She  requested  liberty 
to  lay  it  in  the  earth,  but  the  savage  said,  "  It  is 
better  as  it  is,  for  now  the  wild  beasts  cannot  come 
at  it ;  and  you  may  have  the  comfort  of  seeing  it 
again  if  ever  you  come  that  way." 

•  Netop  is  the  Indian  word  for  friend. 


THREE   NARRATIVES.  29 

The  journey  now  before  them  was  like  to  be  very 
long  —  as  far  as  Canada,  where  Mrs.  Goodwin's 
master's  purpose  was  to  make  merchandise  of  her, 
and  glad  was  she  to  hear  such  happy  tidings.  But 
the  desperate  length  of  the  way,  and  want  of  food, 
and  grief  of  mind,  wherewith  she  was  now  encoun 
tered,  caused  her  within  a  few  days  to  faint  under 
her  difficulties  ;  when,  at  length,  she  sat  down  for 
some  repose,  with  many  prayers  and  tears  unto  God 
for  the  salvation  of  her  soul,  she  found  herself  un 
able  to  rise,  until  she  saw  her  furious  executioner 
coming  towards  her,  with  fire  in  his  eyes,  the  devil 
in  his  heart,  and  his  hatchet  in  his  hand,  ready  to 
bestow  a  mercy  stroke  of  death  upon  her.  Then  it 
was  that  this  poor  captive  woman,  in  this  extreme 
misery,  got  upon  her  knees,  and,  with  weeping  and 
wailing,  and  all  expressions  of  agony  and  entreaty, 
prevailed  on  him  to  spare  her  life  a  little  longer, 
and  she  did  not  question  but  God  would  enable  her 
to  walk  a  little  faster.  The  merciless  tyrant  was 
prevailed  with  to  spare  her  this  time  ;  nevertheless, 
her  former  weakness  quickly  returning  upon  her,  he 
was  just  going  to  murder  her,  when  a  couple  of  In 
dians,  just  at  this  moment  coming  in,  called  suddenly 
upon  him  to  hold  his  hand.  At  this  such  a  horror 
surprised  his  guilty  soul  that  he  ran  away  from  her  ; 
but  hearing  them  call  his  name,  he  returned,  and 
then  permitted  these  his  friends  to  ransom  his  pris 
oner. 

After  these  events,  as  the  party  were  seated  by  the 
side  of  a  river,  they  heard  several  guns  go  off  on 
3* 


30  THREE   NARRATIVES. 

the  opposite  side,  which  the  Indians  concluded  was 
occasioned  by  a  party  of  Albany  Indians,  who  were 
their  enemies  ;  whereupon  this  bold  blade  (her  old 
master)  would  needs  go  in  a  canoe  to  discover  what 
they  were.  They  fired  upon  and  shot  him  through, 
together  with  several  of  his  friends,  before  the  dis 
covery  could  be  made.  Some  days  after  this,  divers 
of  his  friends  gathered  a  party  to  revenge  his  death 
on  their  supposed  enemies.  With  these  they  soon 
joined  battle,  and  after  several  hours'  hard  fighting, 
were  themselves  put  to  the  rout.  Among  the  cap 
tives  which  they  left  in  their  flight  was  this  poor 
woman,  who  was  overjoyed,  supposing  herself  now 
at  liberty  ;  but  her  joy  did  not  last  long,  for  these 
Indians  were  of  the  same  sort  as  the  others,  and  had 
been  by  their  own  friends  thus,  through  a  strange 
mistake,  set  upon. 

However,  this  crew  proved  more  favorable  to  her 
than  the  former,  and  went  away  silently  with  their 
booty,  being  loath  to  have  any  noise  made  of  their 
foul  mistake.  And  yet  a  few  days  after,  such  another 
mistake  happened  ;  for  meeting  with  another  party 
of  Indians  which  they  imagined  were  in  the  English 
interest,  they  also  furiously  engaged  each  other,  and 
many  were  killed  and  wounded  on  both  sides ;  but 
the  conquerors  proved  to  be  a  party  of  French  In 
dians  this  time,  who  took  this  poor  Mrs.  Goodwin, 
and  presented  her  to  the  French  captain  of  the 
party,  by  whom  she  was  carried  to  Canada,  where 
she  continued  five  years,  after  which  she  was  brought 
safely  back  to  New  England. 


THREE    NARRATIVES.  31 

THOMAS  TOOGOOD'S  short  narrative  is  introduced 
to  relieve  the  reader  from  the  contemplation  of 
blood  and  misery..  At  the  same  time  the  other  cap 
tives  were  taken,  three  Indians  hotly  pursued  this 
man,  and  one  of  them  overtaking  him,  while  the 
rest  perceiving  it,  staid  behind  the  hill,  having 
seen  him  quietly  yield  himself  a  prisoner.  While 
the  Indian  was  getting  out  his  strings  to  bind  his 
prisoner,  he  held  his  gun  under  his  arm,  which  Too- 
good  observing,  suddenly  sprang  and  wrested  it 
from  him  ;  and  momentarily  presenting  it  at  the 
Indian,  protested  that  he  would  shoot  him  down  if 
he  made  the  least  noise.  And  so  away  he  ran  with 
it  unto  Quochecho.  If  my  reader  be  now  inclined 
to  smile,  when  he  thinks  how  simply  poor  Isgrim 
looked,*  returning  to  his  mates  behind  the  hill, 
without  either  gun  or  prey,  or  any  thing  but  strings, 
to  remind  him  of  his  own  deserts,  I  am  sure  his 
brethren  felt  not  less  so,  for  they  derided  him  with 
ridicule  at  his  misadventure.  The  Indians  are  sin 
gularly  excessive  in  the  practice  of  sporting  at  the 
misfortunes  of  one  another  in  any  case  they  are 
outwitted,  or  have  been  guilty  of  committing  any 
blunder. 


*  The  only  retaliation  the  baffled  savage  was  able  to  make  upon 
Toogood  was  to  cry  out  Nogood,  Noffood,  as  his  intended  victim  disap 
peared. 


LOVEWELL'S  FIGHT. 

A  BALLAD.      N.  H.   HISTORICAL  COLLECTIONS. 

APRIL  18,  1725. 

"  THE  story  of  Lovewell's  Fight,"  says  the  North 
American  Review,  "  is  one  of  the  nursery  tales  of 
New  Hampshire.  There  is  hardly  a  person  that 
lives  in  the  eastern  and  northern  part  of  the  state 
but  has  heard  incidents  of  that  fearful  encounter 
repeated  from  infancy.  It  was  on  the  18th  of  April, 
1725,  that  Captain  John  Lovewell,  of  Dunstable, 
Massachusetts,  with  thirty-four  men,  fought  a  famous 
Indian  chief,  named  Paugus,  at  the  head  of  about 
eighty  savages,  near  the  shores  of  a  pond  in  Pe- 
quawkett.*  Lovewell's  men  were  determined  to 
conquer  or  die.  although  outnumbered  by  the  In 
dians  more  than  one  half.  They  fought  till  Love- 
well  and  Paugus  were  killed,  and  all  LovewelPs 
men  but  nine  were  either  killed  or  wounded  dan 
gerously.  The  savages  having  lost,  as  was  supposed, 
sixty  of  their  number  out  of  eighty,  and  being  con 
vinced  of  the  fierce  and  determined  resolution  of 


*  The  Indian  name  of  a  considerable  tract  of  country  including  Con- 
way,  N.  H.,  Fryeburg,  Me.,  and  the  adjacent  towns. 

(32) 


LOVEWELL'S  FIGHT.  33 

their  foes,  at  length  retreated  and  left  them  masters 
of  the  ground.  The  scene  of  this  desperate  and 
bloody  action,  which  took  place  in  the  town  which 
is  now  called  Fryeburg,  is  often  visited  with  interest 
to  this  day,  and  the  names  of  those  who  fell,  and 
those  who  survived,  are  yet  repeated  with  emotions 
of  grateful  exultation." 

What  time  the  noble  LOVEWELL  came, 

"With  fifty  men  from  Dunstable, 
The  cruel  Pequa'tt  tribe  to  tame, 

With  arms  and  bloodshed  terrible. 

Then  did  the  crimson  streams,  that  flowed, 
Seem  like  the  waters  of  the  brook, 

That  brightly  shine,  that  loudly  dash 
Far  down  the  cliffs  of  Agiochook. 

With  Lovewell  brave,  John  Harwood  came  ; 

From  wife  and  babes  'twas  hard  to  part  ; 
Young  Harwood  took  her  by  the  hand, 

And  bound  the  weeper  to  his  heart 

"  Repress  that  tear,  my  Mary  dear," 
Said  Harwood  to  his  loving  wife  ; 

"  It  tries  me  hard  to  leave  thee  here, 
And  seek  in  distant  woods  the  strife, 

"  When  gone,  my  Mary,  think  of  me, 

And  pray  to  God  that  I  may  be 
Such  as  one  ought  that  lives  for  thee, 

And  come  at  last  in  victory." 


34  LOVEWELL'S  FIGHT. 

Thus  left  young  Harwood  babe  and  wife  j 
With  accent  wild,  she  bade  adieu  ; 

It  grieved  those  lovers  much  to  part. 
So  fond  and  fair,  so  kind  and  true. 

Seth  Wyman,*  who  in  Woburn  lived, 

(A  marksman  he  of  courage  true,) 
Shot  the  first  Indian  whom  they  saw  ; 

Sheer  through  his  heart  the  bullet  flew. 

The  savage  had  been  seeking  game  ; 

Two  guns  and  eke  a  knife  he  bore, 
And  two  black  ducks  were  in  his  hand  ; 

He  shrieked,  and  fell,  to  rise  no  more.f 

Anon,  there  eighty  Indians  rose, 

Who'd  hid  themselves  in  ambush  dread  ; 

Their  knives  they  shook,  their  guns  they  aimed, 
The  famous  Paugus  at  their  head. 

Good  heavens  !  they  dance  the  powwow  dance  ; 

What  horrid  yells  the  forest  fill ! 
The  grim  bear  crouches  in  his  den, 

The  eagle  seeks  the  distant  hill. 

*  He  was  Lovewell's  lieutenant.  He  distinguished  himself  in  such 
a  signal  manner  that,  after  his  return,  he  was  presented  with  a  silver- 
hilted  sword  and  a  captain's  commission. 

t  This  Indian  was  no  doubt  placed  there  as  a  decoy.  Suspecting 
this,  the  men  concealed  their  packs  and  advanced  with  great  caution. 
Meantime  Paugus  and  Wahwa,  with  two  parties  of  Indians,  followed 
their  trail  till  they  found  the  packs.  About  these  they  placed  them 
selves  in  ambush,  and  when  the  Englishmen  returned,  rose  and  com 
menced  the  attack. 


LUVEWELL'S  FIGHT.  35 

"  What  means  this  dance,  this  powwow  dance  ?  " 
Stern  Wyman  said  ;  with  wondrous  art 

He  crept  full  near,  his  rifle  aimed, 

And  shot  the  leader  through  the  heart. 

John  Lovewell,  captain  of  the  band, 

His  sword  he  waved,  that  glittered  bright, 

For  the  last  time  he  cheered  his  men, 
And  led  them  onward  to  the  fight. 

"  Fight  on,  fight  on,"  brave  Lovewell  said  ; 

"  Fight  on,  while  Heaven  shall  give  you  breath  1 " 
An  Indian  ball  then  pierced  him  through, 

And  Lovewell  closed  his  eyes  in  death* 

John  Harwood  died  all  bathed  in  blood, 
When  he  had  fought  till  set  of  day  I 

And  many  more  we  may  not  name 
Fell  in  that  bloody  battle  fray, 

When  news  did  come  to  Harwood's  wife, 
That  he  with  Lovewell  fought  and  died, 

Far  in  the  wilds  had  given  his  life, 

Nor  more  would  in  their  home  abide,  — • 

Such  grief  did  seize  upon  her  mind, 
Such  sorrow  filled  her  faithful  breast, 

On  earth  she  ne'er  found  peace  again, 
But  followed  Harwood  to  his  rest. 

'Twas  Paugus  led  the  Pequa'tt  tribe  ; 
As  runs  the -fox  would  Paugus  run  ; 


3t>  LOVEWELL'S  FIGHT. 

As  howls  the  wild  wolf  would  he  howl ; 
A  large  bear  skin  had  Paugus  on. 

But  Chamberlain,  of  Dunstable, 

(One  whom  a  savage  ne'er  shall  slay,) 

Met  Paugus  by  the  water  side, 

And  shot  him  dead  upon  that  day.* 

Good  heavens !  is  this  a  time  for  prayer  ? 

Is  this  a  time  to  worship  God  ? 
When  Lovewell's  men  are  dying  fast, 

And  Paugus'  tribe  hath  felt  the  rod  ? 

The  chaplain's  name  was  Jonathan  Frye  ; 

In  Andover  his  father  dwelt, 
And  oft  with  Lovewell's  men  he'd  prayed, 

Before  the  mortal  wound  he  felt. 


*  The  death  of  this  celebrated  Indian  happened  in  this  manner : 
Paugus  and  Chamberlain  had  been  foes,  and  had  met  in  bloody  fray 
before  the  present  battle.  Towards  the  close  of  the  day  the  guns  of 
each  had  become  foul  from  constant  firing,  and  they  came  at  the  same 
time  to  the  water's  edge  for  the  purpose  of  washing  them.  Paugus 
was  up  stream  and  Chamberlain  below.  They  immediately  recognized 
each  other.  "  Now,  Paugus,"  said  Chamberlain,  "  it  is  you  or  I." 
"  Yes,"  answered  the  warrior,  "  it  is  you  or  I."  Both  then  sprang  to 
the  water,  and  commenced  cleaning  their  pieces.  Each  strained  every 
nerve,  conscious  that  to  be  last  would  be  death.  Almost  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning  the  guns  were  washed  out  and  dried.  They  be 
gan  loading  at  the  same  instant.  The  muskets  were  primed,  the 
powder  rammed  home,  the  bullets  thrown  into  the  muzzles,  and  who 
could  tell  the  issue  !  But  now  appeared  the  advantage  of  Chamber 
lain's  position.  Paugus,  standing  above  Chamberlain,  was  obliged  to 
follow  his  ball  with  a  wad,  to  prevent  its  rolling  out.  Chamberlain 
dropped  the  ball  down  the  muzzle  of  his  piece,  his  eye  glanced  along 
the  barrel,  and  with  a  yell  the  Indian  chief  leaped  into  the  air  and  fell 
headlong  into  the  brook. 


LOVEWELL'S  FiGiii.  37 

A  man  was  he  of  comely  form, 

Polished  and  brave,  well  learnt  and  kind  ; 
Old  Harvard's  learned  halls  he  left, 

Far  in  the  wilds  a  grave  to  find. 

Ah,  now  his  blood-red  arm  he  lifts, 

His  closing  lids  he  tries  to  raise, 
And  speak  once  more  before  he  dies, 

In  supplication  and  in  praise. 

He  prays  kind  Heaven  to  grant  success, 
Brave  Lovewell's  men  to  guide  and  bless, 

And  when  they've  shed  their  heart  blood  true, 
To  raise  them  all  to  happiness. 

14  Come  hither,  Farwell,"  said  young  Frye, 

"  You  see  that  I'm  about  to  die  ; 
Now  for  the  love  I  bear  to  you, 

When  cold  in  death  my  bones  shall  lie,  — 

"  Go  thou  and  see  my  parents  dear, 
And  tell  them  you  stood  by  me  here  ; 

Console  them  when  they  cry,  Alas ! 
And  wipe  away  the  falling  tear." 

Lieutenant  Farwell  took  his  hand, 

His  arm  around  his  neck  he  threw, 
Ind  said,  "  Brave  chaplain,  I  could  wish 

That  Heaven  had  made  me  die  for  you. 
4 


38  LOVEWELL'S  FIGHT. 

The  chaplain  on  kind  Farwell's  breast, 

Bloody  and  languishing  he  fell  ; 
Nor  after  this  said  more,'  but  this, 

"  I  love  thee,  soldier  ;  fare  thee  well." 

Ah,  many  a  wife  shall  rend  her  hair, 
And  many  a  child  cry,  "  Woe  is  me ! " 

When  messengers  the  news  shall  bear, 
Of  Lovewell's  dear-bought  victory.* 

With  footsteps  slow  shall  travellers  go, 

Where  Lovewell's  Pond  shines  clear  and  bright, 

And  mark  the  place  where  those  are  laid 
Who  fell  in  Lovewell's  bloody  fight. 

Old  men  shall  shake  their  heads,  and  say, 

"  Sad  was  the  hour  and  terrible 
When  Lovewell  brave  'gainst  Paugus  went, 

With  fifty  men  from  Dunstable." 


*  Of  the  thirty-four  men  who  belonged  to  Lovewell's  party,  but  nine 
returned  unhurt ;  eleven  came  back  wounded,  and  three  had  to  be  left 
behind  on  account  of  their  severe  wounds.  Among  these  three  was 
Ensign  Bobbins,  who  desired  to  have  his  gun  charged  and  left  by  his 
side,  that  he  might  kill  one  more  of  them,  should  they  return. 


THE    BOAR  AND   THE    BEAR. 

WRITTEN  BY  THE  REV.  GRANT  POWERS,  FOR  THE  HISTORICAL 
COLLECTIONS  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 

1731. 

THE  town  of  Hollis,  in  the  county  of  Hillsbor- 
ough,  N.  H.,is  one  of  the  oldest  towns  in  the  county, 
and  was  first  settled  by  Captain  Peter  Powers,  and 
Anna,  his  wife,  from  Hampshire,  Dunstable,  in  1731. 
Those  early  settlers  were  accustomed  to  the  rearing 
of  many  swine,  by  permitting  them  to  run  at  large 
in  the  woods,  and  to  subsist  upon  roots,  acorns,  and 
nuts,  which  were  produced  in  great  abundance  in 
the  place.  In  the  fall  of  the  year,  or  at  the  time  of 
the  first  deep  snow,  the  older  members  of  the  herd, 
that  were  originally  tame,  would  lead  their  numer 
ous  progeny  into  winter  quarters,  at  a  shed  erected 
for  that  purpose  some  distance  from  the  house,  where 
the  owner  disposed  of  them  as  he  pleased,  although 
many  of  them  were  as  untame  and  as  ferocious  as 
the  beasts  of  the  mountains.  At  that  time  bears 
were  plenty,  and  very  hostile  to  swine.  It  became 
necessary,  therefore,  to  provide  for  the  defence  of 
the  herd,  by  permitting  one  of  the  males  to  live 

(39) 


40          THE  BOAR  AND  THE  BEAR. 

several  years  beyond  the  period  of  life  ordinarily 
assigned  to  that  species  by  man  :  at  which  time  he 
became  literally  the  master  of  the  flock.  His  tusks 
protruded  on  either  side,  in  nearly  semicircles,  to 
the  distance  of  six  or  seven  inches.  He  seemed 
conscious  of  his  superiority  and  responsibility.  He 
was  fierce  in  the  extreme,  and  courted  danger  ;  and 
when  the  herd  was  assailed  he  instantly  presented 
himself  to  the  foe,  with  eyes  darting  fire,  with  tusks 
heated  to  blueness,  and  foaming  at  the  mouth  in  a 
terrific  manner.  He  roamed  the  forest,  unconscious 
of  danger  ;  he  led  the  herd  ;  and  but  few  of  the 
untamed  tribes  had  the  temerity  to  dispute  his  title 
to  supremacy. 

It  happened,  however,  on  a  certain  day  in  autumn, 
when  Anna  stood  in  the  door  of  her  cabin,  listening 
to  the  oft-repeated  sound  of  the  descending  axe,  or 
the  crash  of  falling  trees,  while  her  husband  was  at 
his  daily  task,  that  she  heard  from  a  great  distance 
the  faint  yet  distinct  cry  of  one  of  their  herd.  She 
thought  it  was  the  cry  of  expiring  nature.  She 
remained  in  this  state  of  suspense  but  a  short  time 
before  the  herd  came  rushing  from  the  forest  in  the 
greatest  apparent  trepidation.  The  oldest  dams  of 
the  herd,  much  exhausted,  and  without  their  common 
leader  and  protector,  seemed  inclined  to  take  refuge 
in  the  apartment  which  had  been  their  retreat  in 
former  winters ;  but  the  younger  branches  of  the 
family  would  not  follow  them.  The  dams,  seeing 
this,  dashed  on  through  the  cleared  space,  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  forest  on  the  north  side.  The  cries 


THE  BOAR  AND  THE  BEAR.  41 

of  the  wounded  were  still  heard,  but  grew  fainter 
and  fainter,  until  wholly  lost  in  death.  But  the 
anxious  Anna  had  not  removed  from  her  position 
before  the  old  boar  came  rushing  through  the  bushes 
in  eager  pursuit  of  his  charge,  which  had  eloped  and 
left  him  in  the  rear  by  many  a  rood.  He  was  fresh 
from  the  field  of  combat.  He  was  bathed  in  blood, 
foaming  at  the  mouth,  gnashing  his  tusks,  and  ex 
hibiting  a  terrific  aspect.  Regardless  of  home,  he 
approached  a  field  of  corn  which  grew  near  the 
cabin,  and  leaped  the  fence,  not  touching  the  top 
most  knot,  although  it  *was  proof  against  horses 
which  strayed  through  the  woods  from  neighboring 
towns  in  Massachusetts.  He  passed  directly  through 
the  field,  without  touching  a  kernel  of  corn,  and, 
leaping  the  fence  on  the  opposite  side,  disappeared 
in  the  woods.  Not  long  after  the  wished-for  hus 
band,  whose  presence  the  gathering  shades  of  even 
ing,  the  deep  solitude  of  the  place,  and  the  stirring 
events  of  the  afternoon,  had  rendered  peculiarly  in 
viting  to  the  young  partner  of  his  toils  and  hopes, 
returned  with  his  axe  upon  his  shoulder,  enlivening 
the  forest  with  his  evening  whistle,  and  driving  his 
old  bell-cow  before  him,  which  summoned  Anna  with 
her  milk  pail  to  her  evening  task. 

Scarcely  had  he  secured  the  topmost  rail  to  his 
yard  enclosure,  when  Anna,  from  the  window  of  her 
cabin,  saw  her  husband  held  in  anxious  suspense. 
For  some  moments  he  paused  and  listened,  but  turned 
and  called,  "  Anna,  Anna,  bring  me  my  gun  and  am 
munition  in  a  minute,  for  the  old  master  himself  is 
4* 


42  THE  BOAR  AXD  THE  BEAR. 

worsted."  They  were  at  his  hand  in  a  trice.  "  Look 
to  yourself/'  said  the  husband,  and  bounded  into 
the  forest.*  Pursuing  with  great  speed  the  course 
whence  the  sound  proceeded,  which  alone  broke  the 
silence  of  the  evening,  our  adventurer  soon  found 
himself  at  the  distance  of  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  his  cabin,  surrounded  with  black  alders,  so 
thickly  set  as  to  be  almost  impenetrable  to  man  and 
beast.  Before  him  lay  Long  Pond,  so  called,  about 
one  mile  in  length,  and  from  a  quarter  to  a  half  a 
mile  perhaps  in  width.  He  was  near  midway  of  the 
pond,  and  the  sound  from  the  laboring  boar  and  his 
antagonist  (a  mixed,  frightful  yell)  proceeded  direct 
ly  from  the  opposite  shore.  Nothing  now  remained 
but  for  him  to  plunge  into  the  pond,  and  make  the 
opposite  shore  by  beating  the  waves,  or  to  divide 
him  a  passage  amidst  the  alders  around  one  of  the 
extremities  of  the  pond,  which  could  not  be  done 
short  of  travelling  the  distance  of  another  mile. 
But  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  The  cries  of  the  boar 
bespoke  the  greatest  need,  and  the  latter  course 
was  adopted  ;  and  in  a  space  of  time  and  with  the 
courage  and  energy  which  are  scarcely  conceived  by 
the  present  generation,  he  arrived  at  the  scene  of 
action.  Whose  heart  does  not  now  misgive  him, 
while  nearing  the  battle  ground,  alone,  in  darkness, 
and  all  uncertain  as  to  the  nature  of  the  foe  ?  But 
young  Powers  advanced  with  undaunted  firmness. 
He  was  under  the  necessity  of  approaching  near  to 

*  Indians  were  then  numerous  in  the  town. 


THE  BOAR  AND  THE  BEAK.          43 

the  belligerents  before  he  could  make  any  discovery, 
by  reason  of  the  darkness  of  the  night,  rendered 
more  dark  by  the  towering  trees,  which  mingled 
their  branches  at  some  sixty  or  seventy  feet  from 
the  ground,  and  a  dense  underwood,  which  stood 
like  a  hedge  continually  before  him.  But  as  soon 
as  he  entered  the  area  which  had  been  beaten  down 
during  the  action,  he  discovered  the  boar  seated 
upon  the  ground,  and  still  defending  himself  against 
the  furious  assaults  of  the  hugest  bear  his  eyes  ever 
beheld.  She  was  like  his  old  bell-cow  for  magni 
tude  !  He  drew  his  gun  to  an  aim,  when  he  per 
ceived,  obscurely,  that  the  bear  was  on  a  line  with 
him  and  his  hog,  and  he  could  not  discharge  his 
piece  without  putting  the  life  of  the  latter  in  jeop 
ardy  ;  and  as  he  was  moving  in  a  circular  direction 
to  procure  a  safe  discharge,  he  was  discovered  by 
the  bear,  and  she  bounded  into  the  bushes.  Powers 
now  came  up  to  the  boar,  and  witnessed  such  tokens 
of  gladness  as  surprised  him.  It  was,  however,  too 
solemn  an  hour  with  the  swine  to  lavish  upon  his 
deliverer  unmeaning  ceremonies.  As  soon  as  he 
found  himself  released  from  his  too  powerful  antag 
onist,  he  prostrated  himself  upon  the  ground,  and 
lay  some  time,  panting  and  groaning  in  a  manner 
truly  affecting  to  his  owner.  Powers  now  dis 
charged  his  gun,  with  a  view  to  terrify  the  beasts 
of  prey,  and  keep  them  off  during  the  night.  He 
struck  and  kindled  a  fire,  and,  upon  a  slight  exam 
ination,  he  found  that  his  hog  was  lacerated  in  his 
rear  in  a  shocking  manner.  He  was  utterly  dis- 


44  THE  BOAR  AND  THE  BEAR. 

abled  from  rising,  except  upon  his  fore  feet.  But  to 
show  the  indomitable  nature  of  the  animal,  I  will 
relate  that  the  boar,  after  some  little  time,  recov 
ered  in  a  degree  from  his  extreme  exhaustion,  and 
gaining  the  same  position  he  had  when  his  owner 
found  him,  began  to  beat  a  challenge  for  a  re 
newal  of  the  combat.  Again  his  eyes  flashed  with 
rage,  he  stamped  with  his  fore  feet,  he  chafed, 
gnashed  with  his  tusks,  and,  foaming  at  the  mouth, 
he  looked  around  with  the  greatest  apparent  firm 
ness  for  his  antagonist.  Our  adventurer  now  drew 
together  fallen  wood  sufficient  to  support  a  fire 
through  the  night,  burned  powder  around  his  swine, 
and  returned  to  his  cabin,  where  he  was  never  more 
joyfully  received  by  the  young  wife,  who,  during  all 
this  while,  had  remained  listening  at  the  window  in 
painful  solicitude. 

The  next  day  some  help  was  obtained,  as  one 
family  had,  prior  to  this,  moved  in  and  settled  in 
the  south-west  part  of  the  town  •  and  the  battle 
ground  was  revisited.  The  boar  had  not  moved 
out  of  his  place,  but  was  still  weltering  in  his  blood. 
With  much  labor  he  was  conveyed  home  in  a  cart ; 
and,  as  he  never  could  become  the  defence  of  the 
herd  again,  he  was  yarded,  fattened,  and  killed,  and 
helped  by  his  death  to  promote  that  existence  to  the 
family  which  he  could  no  longer  do  by  his  life. 

With  a  view  to  account  for  the  melancholy  fate 
of  the  boar,  Powers  and  his  associates  went  in. 
search  of  the  swine  that  was  destroyed  in  the  af 
ternoon  of  the  preceding  day.  They  found  one  of 


THE  BOAR  AND  THE  BEAR.          45 

their  largest  hogs  slain  by  a  bear,  and,  near  to,  a 
large  bear  was  as  evidently  slain  by  the  boar.  From 
this  they  inferred  that  the  first  hog  was  mortally 
wounded  by  a  bear  in  the  absence  of  the  boar,  but 
the  cries  of  the  wounded  soon  brought  the  master, 
when  a  battle  ensued  in  which  the  bear  was  slain, 
not,  however,  without  loss  of  blood  from  the  boar  ; 
that  during  this  first  action  the  rest  of  the  herd 
fled,  and  that  the  boar  was  in  pursuit  of  them  when 
he  passed  the  cabin  through  the  field  ;  that  after 
running  some  miles  at  the  point  of  exhaustion,  he 
fell  in  with  a  still  more  powerful  antagonist,  when 
Lis  fight  was  comparatively  feeble,  and  he  fell,  over 
powered,  but  not  mbdued. 


THE    CAPTIVITY    OF    MRS.    ISABELLA  . 
M'COY,   OF  EPSOM,  N.  H. 

COMMUNICATED    BY   THE    REV.   JONATHAN    CURTIS,   OF    EPSOM,    TO 
THE  NEW  HAMPSHIRE  HISTORICAL  COLLECTIONS. 

1747. 

THE  Indians  were  first  attracted  to  the  new  set 
tlements  in  the  town  of  Epsom,  N.  H.,  by  discover 
ing  M;Coy  at  Suncook,  now  Pembroke.  This,  as 
nearly  as  can  be  ascertained,  was  in  the  year  1747. 
Reports  were  spread  of  the  depredations  of  the 
Indians  in  various  places,  and  M'Coy  had  heard 
that  they  had  been  seen  lurking  about  the  woods  at 
Penacook,  now  Concord.  He  went  as  far  as  Pem 
broke,  ascertained  that  they  were  in  the  vicinity, 
was  somewhere  discovered  by  them,  and  followed 
home.  They  told  his  wife,  whom  they  afterwards 
made  prisoner,  that  they  looked  through  cracks 
around  the  house,  and  saw  what  they  had  for  supper 
that  night.  They,  however,  did  not  discover  them 
selves  till  the  second  day  after.  They  probably 
wished  to  take  a  little  time  to  learn  the  strength 
and  preparation  of  the  inhabitants.  The  next  day, 
Mrs.  M'Coy,  attended  by  their  two  dogs,  went  down 
to  see  if  any  of  the  other  families  had  returned 

(46) 


THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   MRS.  ISABELLA  M*COY.        47 

from  the  garrison.  She  found  no  one.  On  her 
return,  as  she  was  passing  the  block  house,  which 
stood  near  the  present  site  of  the  meeting  house,  the 
dogs,  which  had  passed  round  it,  came  running  back 
growling  and  very  much  excited.  Their  appearance 
induced  her  to  make  the  best  of  her  way  home.  The 
Indians  afterwards  told  her  that  they  then  lay  con 
cealed  there,  and  saw  the  dogs  when  they  came 
round. 

M'Coy,  being  now  strongly  suspicious  that  the 
Indians  were  actually  in  the  town,  determined  to  set 
off  the  next  day  with  his  family  for  the  garrison  at 
Nottingham.  His  family  now  consisted  of  himself, 
his  wife,  and  son  John.  The  younger  children  were 
still  at  the  garrison.  They  accordingly  secured 
their  house  as  well  as  they  could,  and  all  set  off 
next  morning,  M'Coy  and  his  son  with  their  guns, 
though  without  ammunition,  having  fired  away  what 
they  brought  with  them  in  hunting. 

As  they  were  travelling  a  little  distance  east  of 
the  place  where  the  meeting  house  now  stands,  Mrs. 
M'Coy  fell  a  little  in  the  rear  of  the  others.  This 
circumstance  gave  the  Indians  a  favorable  opportu 
nity  for  separating  her  from  her  husband  and  son. 
The  Indians,  three  men  and  a  boy,  lay  in  ambush 
near  the  foot  of  Marden's  hill,  not  far  from  the  junc 
tion  of  the  mountain  road  with  the  main  road.  Here 
they  suffered  M'Coy  and  his  son  to  pass  ;  but  as  his 
wife  was  passing  them,  they  reached  from  the  bushes, 
and  took  hold  of  her,  charging  her  to  make  no  noise, 
and  covering  her  mouth  with  their  hands,  as  she 


48        THE    CAPTIVITY   OF   MRS.   ISABELLA   M'COY. 

cried  to  her  husband  for  assistance.  Her  husband, 
hearing  her  cries,  turned,  and  was  about  coming  to 
her  relief ;  but  he  no  sooner  began  to  advance,  than 
the  Indians,  expecting  probably  that  he  would  fire 
upon  them,  began  to  raise  their  pieces,  which  she 
pushed  one  side,  and  motioned  to  her  friends  to 
make  their  escape,  knowing  that  their  guns  were 
not  loaded,  and  that  they  would  doubtless  be  killed 
if  they  approached.  They  accordingly  ran  into  the 
woods,  and  made  their  escape  to  the  garrison.  This 
took  place  August  21,  1747. 

The  Indians  then  collected  together  what  booty 
they  could  obtain,  which  consisted  of  an  iron  tram 
mel  from  Mr.  George  Wallace's,  the  apples  of  the 
only  tree  which  bore  in  town,  which  was  in  the 
orchard  now  owned  by  Mr.  David  Griffin,  and  some 
other  trifling  articles,  and  prepared  to  set  off  with 
their  prisoner  for  Canada. 

Before  they  took  their  departure,  they  conveyed 
Mrs.  M'Coy  to  a  place  near  the  little  Suncook  River, 
where  they  left  her  in  the  care  of  the  young  Indian, 
while  the  three  men,  whose  names  were  afterwards 
ascertained  to  be  Plausawa,  Sabatis,  and  Christi, 
went  away,  and  were  for  some  time  absent.  During 
their  absence,  Mrs.  M'Coy  thought  of  attempting  to 
make  her  escape.  She  saw  opportunities  when  she 
thought  she  might  despatch  the  young  Indian  with 
the  trammel  which,  with  other  things,  was  left  with 
them,  and  thus  perhaps  avoid  some  strange  and  bar 
barous  death,  or  a  long  and  distressing  captivity. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  she  knew  not  at  what  dis- 


THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   MRS.   ISABELLA   M'COY.         4.9 

tance  the  others  were*  If  she  attempted  to  kill  her 
young  keeper,  she  might  fail.  If  she  effected  her 
purpose  in  this,  she  might  be  pursued  and  overtaken 
by  a  cruel  and  revengeful  foe,  and  then  some  dread 
ful  death  would  be  her  certain  portion.  On  the 
whole,  she  thought  best  to  endeavor  to  prepare  her 
mind  to  bear  what  might  be  no  more  than  a  period 
of  savage  captivity.  Soon,  however,  the  Indians 
returned,  and  put  an  end  for  the  present  to  all 
thoughts  of  escape.  From  the  direction  in  which 
they  went  and  returned,  and  from  their  smutty  ap 
pearance,  she  suspected  what  their  business  had 
been.  She  told  them  she  guessed  they  had  been 
burning  her  house.  Plausawa,  who  could  speak 
some  broken  English,  informed  her  they  had. 

They  now  commenced  their  long  and  tedious  jour 
ney  to  Canada,  in  which  the  poor  captive  might  well 
expect  that  great  and  complicated  sufferings  would  be 
her  lot.  She  did  indeed  find  the  journey  fatiguing, 
and  her  fare  scanty  and  precarious.  But  in  her  treat 
ment  from  the  Indians  she  experienced  a  very  agree 
able  disappointment.  The  kindness  she  received 
from  them  was  far  greater  than  she  had  expected 
from  those  who  were  so  often  distinguished  for  their 
cruelties.  The  apples  they  had  gathered  they  saved 
for  her,  giving  her  one  every  day.  In  this  way  they 
lasted  her  as  far  on  the  way  as  Lake  Champlain. 
They  gave  her  the  last  as  they  were  crossing  that 
lake  in  their  canoes.  This  circumstance  gave  to  the 
tree  on  which  the  apples  grew  the  name  of  "  Isa 
bel's  tree,"  her  name  being  Isabella.  In  many  ways 


did  they  appear  desirous  of  mitigating  the  distresses 
of  their  prisoner  while  on  their  tedious  journey. 
When  night  came  on,  and  they  halted  to  repose 
themselves  in  the  dark  wilderness,  Plausawa,  the 
head  man,  would  make  a  little  couch  in  the  leaves, 
a  little  way  from  theirs,  cover  her  up  with  his  own 
blanket.,  and  there  she  was  suffered  to  sleep  undis 
turbed  till  morning.  When  they  came  to  a  river 
which  must  be  forded,  one  of  them  would  carry  her 
over  on  his  back.  Nothing  like  insult  or  indecency 
did  they  ever  offer  her  during  the  whole  time  she 
was  with  them.  They  carried  her  to  Canada,  and 
sold  her  as  a  servant  to  a  French  family,  whence,  at 
the  close  of  that  war,  she  returned  home.  But  so 
comfortable  was  her  condition  there,  and  her  hus 
band  being  a  man  of  rather  a  rough  and  violent 
temper,  she  declared  she  never  should  have  thought 
of  attempting  the  journey  home,  were  it  not  for  the 
sake  of  her  children. 

After  the  capture  of  Mrs.  MrCoy,  the  Indians  fre 
quently  visited  the  town,  but  never  committed  any 
very  great  depredations.  The  greatest  damage  they 
ever  did  to  the  property  of  the  inhabitants  was  the 
spoiling  of  all  the  ox  teams  in  town.  At  the  time 
referred  to,  there  were  but  four  yoke  of  oxen  in  the 
place,  viz.,  M'Coy's,  Captain  M'Clary's,  George  Wal 
lace's,  and  Sergeant  Blake's.  It  was  a  time  of 
apprehension  from  the  Indians,  and  the  inhabitants 
had  therefore  all  fled  to  the  garrison  at  Nottingham. 
They  left  their  oxen  to  graze  about  the  woods,  with 
a  bell  upon  one  of  them.  The  Indians  found  them, 


THE   CAPTIVITY   OP   MRS.   ISABELLA   M'COY.         51 

shot  one  out  of  each  yoke,  took  out  their  tongues, 
made  a  prize  of  the  bell,  and  left  them. 

The  ferocity  and  cruelty  of  the  savages  were 
doubtless  very  much  averted  by  a  friendly,  concili 
ating  course  of  conduct  in  the  inhabitants  towards 
them.  This  was  particularly  the  case  in  the  course 
pursued  by  Sergeant  Blake.  Being  himself  a  curious 
marksman  and  an  expert  hunter,  —  traits  of  charac 
ter  in  their  view  of  the  highest  order,  —  he  soon 
secured  their  respect,  and,  by  a  course  of  kind  treat 
ment,  he  secured  their  friendship  to  such  a  degree 
that,  though  they  had  opportunities,  they  would  not 
injure  him,  even  in  time  of  war. 

The  first  he  ever  saw  of  them  was  a  company  of 
them  making  towards  his  house  through  the  opening 
from  the  top  of  Sanborn's  Hill.  He  fled  to  the 
woods,  and  there  lay  concealed,  till  they  had  made 
a  thorough  search  about  his  house  and  enclosures, 
and  had  gone  off.  The  next  time  his  visitors  came, 
he  was  constrained  to  become  more  acquainted  with 
them,  and  to  treat  them  with  more  attention.  As 
he  was  busily  engaged  towards  the  close  of  the  day 
in  completing  a  yard  for  his  cow,  the  declining  sun 
suddenly  threw  along  several  enormous  shadows 
on  the  ground  before  him.  He  had  no  sooner  turned 
to  see  the  cause,  than  he  found  himself  in  the  com 
pany  of  a  number  of  stately  Indians.  Seeing  his 
perturbation,  they  patted  him  on  the  head,  and  told 
him  not  to  be  afraid,  for  they  would  not  hurt  him. 
They  then  went  with  him  into  his  house,  and  their 
first  business  was  to  search  all  his  bottles,  to  see  if 


52         THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   MRS.   ISABELLA  M^COY, 

he  had  any  "occapee"  —  rum.  They  then  told  him 
they  were  very  hungry,  and  wanted  something  to 
eat.  He  happened  to  have  a  quarter  of  a  bear, 
which  he  gave  tluim.  They  took  it,  and  threw  it 
whole  upon  the  fire,  and  very  soon  began  to  cut  and 
eat  from  it  half  rawt  While  they  were  eating,  he 
employed  himself  in  cutting  pieces  from  it,  and 
broiling  upon  a  stick  for  them,  which  pleased  them 
very  much.  After  their  repast,  they  wished  for  the 
privilege  of  lying  by  his  fire  through  the  night, 
which  he  granted.  The  next  morning  they  pro- 
posed  trying  skill  with  him  in  firing  at  a  mark.  To 
this  he  acceded.  But  in  this,  finding  themselves 
outdone,  they  were  much  astonished  and  chagrined  ; 
nevertheless,  they  highly  commended  him  for  his 
skill,  patting  him  on  the  head,  and  telling  him  if  he 
would  go  off  with  them,  they  would  make  him  their  big 
captain.  They  used  often  to  call  upon  him,  and 
his  kindness  to  them  they  never  forgot,  even  in  time 
of  war. 

Plausawa  had  a  peculiar  manner  of  doubling  his 
lip,  and  producing  a  very  shrill,  piercing  whistle, 
which  might  be  heard  a  great  distance.  At  a  time 
when  considerable  danger  was  apprehended  from 
the  Indians,  Blake  went  off  into  the  woods  alone, 
though  considered  hazardous,  to  look  for  his  cow 
that  was  missing.  As  he  was  passing  along  by  Sin 
clair's  Brook,  an  unfrequented  place,  northerly  from 
M' Coy's  Mountain,  a  very  loud,  sharp  whistle,  which 
he  knew  to  be  Plausawa's,  suddenly  passed  through 
his  head  like  the  report  of  a  pistol.  The  sudden 


THE   CAPTIVITY   OP   MRS.    ISABELLA   M7COY.         53 

alarm  almost  raised  him  from  the  ground,  and,  with 
a  very  light  step,  he  soon  reached  home  without  his 
cow.  In  more  peaceable  times,  Plausawa  asked  him 
if  he  did  not  remember  the  time,  and  laughed  very 
much  to  think  how  he  ran  at  the  fright,  and  told 
him  the  reason  for  his  whistling.  "Young  Indian" 
said  he,  "  put  up  gun  to  shoot  Englishman.  Me  knock 
it  down,  and  whistle  to  start  you  off"  So  lasting  is 
their  friendship,  when  treated  well.  At  the  close 
of  the  wars,  the  Indians  built  several  wigwams  near 
the  confluence  of  Wallace's  Brook  with  the  great 
Suncook.  On  a  little  island  in  this  river,  near  the 
place  called  "  Short  Falls,"  one  of  them  lived  for  a 
considerable  time.  Plausawa  and  Sabatis  were 
finally  both  killed  in  time  of  peace  by  one  of  the 
whites,  after  a  drunken  quarrel,  and  buried  near  a 
certain  brook  in  Boscawen.* 
5* 

*  See  the  article  "  Indian  Bridge,"  p.  71. 


m 

PEABODY'S  LEAP. 

A  LEGEND  OF  LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 

MANY  are  the  places,  scattered  over  the  face  of 
our  beautiful  country,  whose  wild  and  picturesque 
scenery  is  worthy  of  the  painter's  pencil,  or  the 
poet's  pen.  Some  of  them,  which  were  once  cele 
brated  for  their  rich  stories  of  "legendary  lore," 
are  now  only  sought  to  view  their  natural  scenery, 
while  the  traditions  which  formerly  gave  them  ce 
lebrity  are  buried  in  oblivion.  Such  is  the  scene 
of  the  following  adventure,  —  a  romantic  glen, 
bounded  on  the  north  side  by  a  high  and  rocky  hill, 
which  stretches  itself  some  distance  into  the  lake, 
terminating  in  a  precipice  some  thirty  feet  in  height, 
and  known  by  the  name  of  "  PEABODY'S  LEAP." 

At  the  time  of  the  adventure,  Timothy  Peabody 
was  the  only  man  that  lived  within  fifty  miles  of 
the  place.  In  an  attack  on  one  of  the  frontier  set 
tlements,  his  family  had  all  been  massacred  by  the 
merciless  savage,  and  he  had  sworn  that  their  death 
should  be  revenged.  The  better  to  accomplish  this 
dread  purpose,  he  had  removed  to  this  solitary 
place,  and  constructed  the  rude  shelter  in  which  he 
dwelt,  till  the  blasts  of  winter  drove  him  to  the 

(54) 


55 


home  of  his  fellow-men  again,  to  renew  the  contest 
when  spring  had  awakened  nature  into  life  and 
beauty.  He  was  a  man  who  possessed  much  shrewd 
cunning,  combined  with  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
Indian  habits,  by  which  he  had  always  been  enabled 
to  avoid  the  snares  of  his  subtle  enemies.  Often, 
when  they  had  come  with  a  party  to  take  him,  he 
escaped  their  lures,  and  after  destroying  his  hut, 
on  their  return  homeward  some  of  their  boldest 
warriors  were  picked  off  by  his  unerring  aim  ;  or, 
on  arriving  at  their  home,  they  learned  that  one  of 
their  swiftest  hunters  had  fallen  a  victim  to  his 
deadly  rifle.  He  had  lived  in  this  way  for  several 
years,  and  had  so  often  baffled  them  that  they  had 
at  last  become  weary  of  the  pursuit,  and  for  some 
time  had  left  him  unmolested. 

About  this  time  a  party  of  Indians  made  a  de 
scent  on  one  of  the  small  settlements,  and  had  taken 
three  prisoners,  whom  they  were  carrying  home  to 
sacrifice  for  the  same  number  of  men  that  had  been 
shot  by  Peabody.  It  was  towards  the  close  of  the 
day  when  they  passed  his  abode,  most  of  the  party 
in  advance  of  the  prisoners,  who,  with  their  hands 
tied,  and  escorted  by  five  or  six  Indians,  were  almost 
wearied  out  by  their  long  march,  and  but  just  able 
to  crawl  along.  He  had  observed  this  advanced 
guard,  and  suspecting  there  were  prisoners  in  the 
rear,  let  them  pass  unmolested,  intending  to  try 
some  "  Yankee  tricks  "  to  effect  their  rescue.  He 
accordingly  followed  on  in  the  trail  of  the  party, 
keeping  among  the  thick  trees  which  on  either  side 


56 

skirted  the  path.  He  had  proceeded  but  a  short 
distance  before  he  heard  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle, 
apparently  very  near  him,  which  he  knew  must  be 
one  of  the  Indians,  who  had  strolled  from  the  main 
body  to  procure  some  game  for  their  evening  meal. 
From  his  acquaintance  with  their  habits  and  lan 
guage,  he  only  needed  a  disguise  to  enable  him  to 
join  the  party  if  necessary,  and,  aided  by  the  dark 
ness,  which  was  fast  approaching,  with  but  little 
danger  of  detection.  The  resolution  was  quickly 
put  in  operation  to  kill  this  Indian  and  procure  his 
dress. 

He  had  got  but  a  few  paces  before  he  discovered 
his  victim,  who  had  but  just  finished  loading  his 
rifle.  To  stand  forth  and  boldly  confront  him  would 
give  the  savage  an  equal  chance,  and  even  if  Pea- 
body  proved  the  best  shot,  the  party  of  Indians,  on 
hearing  the  report  of  two  rifles  at  once,  would  be 
alarmed,  and  commence  a  pursuit.  The  chance  was, 
therefore,  two  to  one  against  him,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  contrive  a  way  to  make  the  Indian  fire 
first.  Planting  himself  behind  a  large  tree,  he  took 
off  his  fox-  skin  cap,  placed  it  on  the  end  of  his 
rifle,  and  began  to  move  it.  The  Indian  quickly 
discovered  it,  and  was  not  at  a  loss  to  recollect  the 
owner  by  the  well-known  cap.  Knowing  how  often 
Peabody  had  eluded  them,  he  resolved  to  despatch 
him  at  once ;  and  without  giving  him  notice  of  his 
dangerous  proximity,  he  instantly  raised  his  rifle, 
and  its  contents  went  whizzing  through  the  air. 
The  ball  just  touched  the  bark  of  the  tree,  and 


57 

pierced  the  cap,  which  rose  suddenly,  like  the  death 
spring  of  the  beaver,  and  then  fell  amidst  the  bushes. 
The  Indian,  like  a  true  sportsman,  thinking  himself 
sure  of  his  victim,  did  not  go  to  pick  up  his  game 
till  he  had  reloaded  his  piece  ;  and  dropping  it  to 
the  ground,  he  was  calmly  proceeding  in  the  opera 
tion,  when  Peabody  as  calmly  stepped  from  his 
hiding-place  and  exclaimed,  "  JVoto,  you  tarnal  crit 
ter,  say  your  prayers  as  fast  as  ever  you  can  !  " 

This  was  short  notice  for  the  poor  Indian.  Be 
fore  him,  and  scarcely  ten  paces  distant,  stood  the 
tall  form  of  Peabody,  motionless  as  a  statue,  his 
rifle  at  his  shoulder,  his  finger  on  the  trigger,  and 
his  deadly  aim  firmly  fixed  upon  him.  He  was 
about  to  run,  but  he  had  no  time  to  turn  round  ere 
the  swift-winged  messenger  had  taken  its  flight ;  the 
ball  pierced  his  side  —  he  sprang  into  the  air  and 
fell  lifeless  to  the  ground. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost.  He  immediately  pro 
ceeded  to  strip  the  dead  body  and  array  himself  in 
the  accoutrements,  consisting  of  a  hunting  shirt,  a 
pair  of  moccasins  or  leggins,  and  the  wampum,  belt 
and  knife.  A  little  of  the  blood  besmeared  on  his 
sunburnt  countenance  served  for  the  red  paint,  and 
it  would  have  taken  a  keen  eye,  in  the  gray  twilight 
and  thick  gloom  of  the  surrounding  forest,  to  have 
detected  the  counterfeit  Indian.  Shouldering  his 
rifle  he  again  started  in  the  pursuit,  and  followed 
them  till  they  arrived  in  the  glen,  where  their  ca 
noes  were  secreted.  Here  they  stopped  and  began 
to  prepare  for  their  expected  supper,  previous  to 


58  PEABODY'S  LEAP. 

their  embarkation  for  the  opposite  shore.  The 
canoes  were  launched,  and  their  baggage  deposited 
in  them.  A  fire  was  blazing  brightly,  and  the  party 
were  walking  impatiently  around,  awaiting  the  re 
turn  of  the  hunter.  The  body  of  Peabody  was 
safely  deposited  behind  a  fallen  tree,  where  he  could 
see  every  motion  and  hear  every  word  spoken  in 
the  circle.  Here  he  had  been  about  half  an  hour. 

Night  had  drawn  her  sable  curtains  around  the 
scene.  The  moon  shone  fitfully  through  the  clo-uds 
which  almost  covered  the  horizon,  only  serving 
occasionally  to  render  the  "  darkness  visible."  The 
Indians  now  began  to  evince  manifest  signs  of  im 
patience  for  the  return  of  their  comrade.  They 
feared  that  a  party  of  the  whites  had  followed  them 
and  taken  him  prisoner,  and  at  last  resolved  to  go 
in  search  of  him.  The  plan,  which  was  fortunately 
heard  by  Peabody,  was  to  put  the  captives  into  one 
of  the  canoes,  under  the  care  of  five  of  their  num 
ber,  who  were  to  secrete  themselves  in  case  of 
attack,  massacre  the  prisoners,  and  then  go  to  the 
assistance  of  their  brethren. 

As  soon  as  the  main  body  had  started,  Peabody 
cautiously  crept  from  his  hiding-place  to  the  water, 
and  sliding  in  feet  foremost,  moved  along  on  his 
back,  his  face  just  above  the  surface,  to  the  canoe 
which  contained  the  rifles  of  the  guard.  The 
priming  was  quickly  removed,  and  their  powder 
horns  emptied.  He  then  went  to  the  canoe  in  which 
the  captives  were  placed,  and  gave  them  notice  of 
the  intended  rescue,  at  the.  same  time  warning  them 


PEABODY'S  LEAP.  59 

not  to  show  themselves  above  the  gunwale  till  they 
were  in  safety.  He  next  with  his  Indian  knife  sepa 
rated  the  thong  which  held  the  canoe  to  the  shore, 
intending  to  swim  off  with  it  till  he  had  got  far 
enough  to  avoid  observation,  then  get  in  and  paddle 
for  the  nearest  place  where  a  landing  could  be 
effected.  All  this  was  the  work  of  a  moment,  and 
he  was  slowly  moving  off  from  the  shore,  expecting 
an  attack  from  this  side  ;  but  unfortunately  his  rifle 
had  been  left  behind,  and  he  resolved  not  to  part 
with  "  Old  Plumper/7  as  he  called  it,  without  at 
least  one  effort  to  recover  it.  He  immediately  gave 
the  captives  notice  of  his  intention,  and  directed 
them  to  paddle  slowly  and  silently  out,  and  in  going 
past  the  headland  to  approach  as  near  as  possible, 
and  there  await  his  coining.  The  guard  by  this 
time  had  secreted  themselves,  and  one  of  the  num 
ber  had  chosen  the  same  place  which  Peabody  him 
self  had  previously  occupied,  near  which  he  had 
left  his  old  friend.  He  had  almost  got  to  the  spot, 
when  the  Indian  discovered  the  rifle,  and  grasping 
it,  sprang  upon  his  feet  and  gave  the  alarm  to  his 
companions.  Quick  as  thought,  Peabody  was  upon 
him,  seized  the  rifle,  and  wrenched  it  from  him  with 
such  violence  as  to  throw  him  prostrate  upon  the 
ground.  The  rest  of  the  Indians  were  alarmed,  and 
sounding  the  war  whoop,  rushed  upon  him. 

It  was  a  standard  maxim  with  Peabody,  that  "  a 
good  soldier  never  runs  till  he  is  obliged  to  ;  "  and 
he  now  found  that  he  should  be  under  the  necessity 
of  suiting  his  practice  to  his  theory.  There  was 


60 

no  time  for  deliberation. ;  he  instantly  knocked  down 
the  foremost  with  the  butt  of  his  rifle,  and  bounded 
away  through  the  thicket  like  a  startled  deer.  The 
three  Indians  made  for  the  canoe  in  which  the  rifles 
were  deposited,  already  made  harmless  by  the  pre 
caution  of  Peabody.  This  gave  him  a  good  advan 
tage,  which  was  not  altogether  unnecessary,  as  he 
was  much  encumbered  with  his  wet  clothes  ;  and  be 
fore  he  reached  the  goal  he  could  hear  them  snap 
ping  the  dry  twigs  behind  him.  The  main  body 
had  likewise  got  the  alarm,  and  were  but  a  short 
distance  from  him  when  he  reached  the  head  land. 
Those  who  were  nearest  he  did  not  fear,  unless 
they  came  to  close  action,  and  he  resolved  to  send 
one  more  to  his  long  home,  before  he  leaped  from 
the  precipice. 

"  It's  a  burning  shame  to  wet  so  much  powder," 
exclaimed  he  ;  "  I'll  have  one  more  pop  at  them 
tarnal  redskins."  Peabody's  position  was  quickly 
arranged  to  put  his  threat  into  execution.  His 
rifle  was  presented,  his  eye  glanced  along  its  barrel, 
and  the  first  one  that  showed  his  head  received  its 
deadly  contents.  In  an  instant  Peabody  was  in  the 
water,  making  for  the  canoe.  The  whole  party  by 
this  time  had  come  up,  and  commenced  a  brisk  fire 
upon  the  fugitives.  Peabody  stood  erect  in  the 
canoe,  shouting  in  the  voice  of  a  Stentor,  "  You'd 
better  take,  care ;  ye'll  spile  the  skiff.  Old  Plumper's 
safe,  and  you'll  feel  him  yet,  I  tell  ye  !  " 

They  were  quickly  lost  in  darkness,  and  taking  a 


PEABODY'S  LEAP.  61 

small  circuit,  effected  a  landing  in  safety.  Many 
an  Indian's  life  verified  bis  last  threat,  and  Pea- 
body  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  having  often  related 
to  his  friends  and  neighbors  the  adventure  which 
gave  to  this  place  the  name  of  "  PEABODY'S  LEAP." 
6 


RILBURN'S    DEFENCE. 

WALPOLE,  N.  H. 
1755. 

THE  first  civilized  inhabitant  of  the  present  town 
of  Walpole,  N.  H.,  was  John  Kilburn,  who  settled 
there  in  1749.  The  large  and  fertile  meadows  at 
the  mouth  of  Cold  River,  in  that  township,  slightly 
covered  with  tall  butternut  and  ancient  elm  trees, 
presented  an  inviting  prospect  to  new  colonists,  and 
an  easy  harvest  to  the  hand  of  cultivation.  Just 
above  them,  along  the  east  bank  of  the  Connecticut, 
was  the  defile,  bounded  by  steep  mountains,  which 
formed  the  Indian  highway  to  and  from  Charles- 
town,  the  next  township.  There,  too,  was  the  head 
of  shad  navigation,  the  great  fishing  ground  of  the 
savages  from  time  immemorial.  Next  below  this 
narrow  pass  by  the  river,  and  nearer  the  meadows, 
is  the  site  of  an  ancient  Indian  village,  since  occu 
pied  by  a  tavern.  Next  on  the  south,  and  bounding 
the  meadows  northerly,  was  Cold  River,  a  small 
branch  of  the  main  stream,  overshadowed  with  tall 
maples  and  elms.  The  meadows  themselves  were 
about  half  a  mile  in  extent ;  the  Connecticut  was 
on  the  western  side,  and  a  semicircle  of  woods  on 

(62) 


KILBURN 's  DEFENCE.  63 

the  east,  with  a  central  round  eminence  forty  feet 
high,  from  which  issues  at  this  day  a  medicinal  spring. 
It  was  here  the  adventurous  and  hardy  Kilburn  built 
himself  a  log  hut,  and  here  he  inhabited  the  solitude 
of  the  forest  for  two  years,  without  any  intercourse 
with  friend  or  foe. 

During  this  time  his  life  was  one  continued  scene 
of  danger  and  hardship.  He  sought  opportunities 
to  cultivate  the  friendship  of  the  Indians,  who 
roamed  and  prowled  in  the  woods  around  him  ;  but 
in  this  attempt  he  was  wholly  unsuccessful.  They 
avoided  him  studiously  in  the  daytime,  and  in  the 
night  he  soon  found  that  they  approached  his  hum 
ble  habitation  only  for  the  purpose  of  dealing  him 
the  deadly  blow.  He  was  finally  obliged,  in  conse 
quence  of  this  state  of  things,  to  "adopt  the  plan  of 
"  camping  out "  at  different  places  in  the  woods  each 
night,  with  nothing  but  the  cold  earth  for  his  bed,  a 
bear  skin  for  his  covering,  and  a  cartridge  box  for 
his  pillow.  In  this  manner  he  continued  to  elude 
the  scalping  knife  of  his  lurking  enemies,  though 
they  not  unfrequently  visited  and  plundered  his  hut 
in  his  absence. 

In  1751  Colonel  Benjamin  Bellows  obtained  the 
charter  of  Walpole,  and  began  a  small  settlement  on 
a  spot  occupied  to  this  day  by  the  buildings  of  a  gen 
tleman  of  the  same  name,  above  a  mile  south  from 
the  establishment  of  Kilburn.  There  was  at  this 
time  a  fort  also  in  the  neighboring  township  of 
Number  Four,  now  called  Charlestown.  These  ad 
ditions  to  the  power  of  the  whites  in  this  quarter 


64  KILBUBN5S  DEFENCE. 

Lad  an  essential  influence  upon  the  respect  and  the 
fear  felt  for  them  by  the  Indians  ;  nor  was  it  long 
before  a  company  of  them  descended  the  river  in 
their  canoes,  landed  over  the  falls,  and  invited  their 
old  acquaintance,  Kilburn,  to  trade  with  them.  He 
accepted  the  invitation  without  scruple  or  hesitancy, 
visited  their  encampment,  bought  furs  of  them,  made 
them  presents  of  flints,  flour,  and  fish  hooks.  From 
this  time  they  continued  to  hunt,  lish,  and  lodge  oc 
casionally  in  the  neighborhood.  The  report  of  the 
guns  with  which  the  whites  had  furnished  them  long 
ere  this,  and  the  smoke  of  their  low  wigwams  among 
the  trees,  became  mingled  with  the  familiar  occur 
rences  of  daily  life. 

The  affairs  of  the  settlers  continued  to  prosper 
until  1753,  when  this  alarming  event  occurred  to 
disturb  their  security.  Two  men,  by  the  name  of 
Twitchell  and  Flint,  who  had  gone  back  to  the  hills, 
about  a  mile  east  of  the  settlement,  to  procure  some 
ash  timber  for  oars,  were  fired  upon  and  killed  by 
the  Indians.  One  of  them  was  scalped.  The  other 
they  barbarously  cut  open,  took  out  his  heart,  yet 
warm,  cut  it  in  pieces,  laid  it  upon  his  breast,  and 
thus  left  him  to  be  found  by  his  friends.  This  mas 
sacre  was  among  the  first  appearances  of  a  rupture 
of  the  negotiations  for  peace  pending  between  Eng 
land  and  France,  and  was  the  commencement  of  a 
new  and  long  series  of  Indian  ravages.  It  was, 
moreover,  the  first  Christian  blood  that  was  spilt  in 
Walpole,  and  the  impression  it  produced  on  the 
minds  of  the  settlers  was  proportionately  deep  and 


65 

lasting.  The  bodies  of  the  murdered  men  were 
buried  near  where  they  were  found,  in  a  spot  still 
indicated  by  a  ridge  of  land,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
road,  about  two  miles  north  of  Walpole  village.  It 
is  believed  by  the  friends  of  Twitchell  —  at  least 
by  some  of  the  number  —  that  his  guardian  spirit 
continued,  as  long  as  his  savage  murderers  lived,  to 
hover  over  them  by  night  and  by  day,  and  to  warn 
them  of  the  wiles  of  the  Indians.  Even  a  rock  in 
Connecticut  River,  where  he  used  to  fish  with  never- 
failing  success,  was  a  long  time  held  in  religious 
veneration  ;  and  few,  it  is  rumored,  of  all  those  who 
to  this  day  go  to  angle  from  "  Twitchell  Rock,"  re 
turn  without  taking  from  the  stream  a  most  gener 
ous  fry. 

In  the  spring  of  1755,  an  Indian  by  the  name  of 
Philip,  who  had  just  learned  English  enough  to  be 
understood,  visited  Kilburn's  log  house,  under  the 
pretence  of  being  on  a  hunting  excursion  and  in  want 
of  provisions.  He  was  treated  with  kindness,  and 
furnished  liberally  with  flints,  meal,  and  various 
other  articles  which  he  asked  for.  Soon  after  his 
departure  it  was  ascertained  that  the  same  Indian 
had  visited  all  the  settlements  on  the  Connecticut 
River,  with  the  same  plausible  story.  The  conclu 
sion  was  with  Kilburn  and  his  fellow-settlers  that 
Philip  was  a  scout  employed  by  the  enemy.  This 
suspicion  was  soon  after  confirmed  by  intelligence 
received  at  all  the  forts  on  the  frontiers,  through  a 
friendly  Indian,  from  Governor  Shirley  at  Albany. 
He  stated  that  four  or  five  hundred  of  the  savages 


66  KILBURN'S  DEFENCE. 

were  collected  in  Canada,  whose  object  was  to 
butcher  the  whole  white  population  on  Connecticut 
River. 

The  settlers  —  and  those  of  Walpole  among  the 
number  —  were  startled  by  these  tidings  ;  but  they 
were  not  disheartened.  They  valued  their  hard- 
earned  harvest  and  their  solitary  homes  in  the  wil 
derness,  humble  as  they  were,  too  highly  to  leave 
them  from  the  mere  apprehensions  of  danger.  They 
had  been  accustomed,  too,  to  all  the  hardships  of  a 
rude  life  ;  and  long  had  they  looked  for  the  time  to 
come,  as  it  came  now,  when  they  must  defend  them 
selves,  or  die  in  the  cause. 

Kilburn  and  his  comrades  now  fortified  their  hab 
itations  round  about  by  a  palisade  of  stakes,  with 
such  preparations  of  the  same  nature  as  their  means 
allowed.  On  these  alone  they  depended  for  safety, 
the  next  garrison  (a  fort  of  forty  men)  being  a  mile 
distant  from  the  settlement  of  Colonel  Bellows. 
Measures  thus  prudently  being  taken,  nothing  re 
mained  but  to  wait  for  the  onset  of  the  enemy.  Nor 
had  they  to  wait  long.  On  the  17th  of  August, 
1755,  Kilburn  and  his  son,  in  his  eighteenth  year, 
and  a  man  by  the  name  of  Peak,  with  his  son,  were 
returning  from  work  about  noon,  when  one  of  them 
suddenly  discovered  the  red  legs  of  Indians  among 
the  alders  that  skirted  the  meadows,  as  thick,  in  his 
own  language,  "as  grasshoppers."  They  instantly 
fled  to  the  house,  fastened  the  door,  and  began  to 
make  preparations  for  an  obstinate  defence.  In 
this  they  were  assisted  as  well  as  encouraged  by 


67 

Kilburn's  wife,  and  his  daughter  Hitty,  whose  par 
ticular  charge,  however,  was  to  watch  the  move 
ments  of  the  enemy. 

In  fifteen  minutes  the  latter  were  seen  crawling 
upon  the  bank  east  of  the  house,  and  as  they  crossed 
the  footpath  one  by  one,  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
seven  were  counted.  About  the  same  number  re 
mained  in  ambush  near  the  mouth  of  Cold  River. 
The  object  of  this  party  was  to  waylay  Colonel  Bel 
lows  and  his  men,  whom  they  knew  to  be  working 
at  his  mill  about  a  mile  east.  Before  a  great  while 
accordingly  these  people  came  along,  each  with  a 
bag  of  meal  on  his  back.  Presently  their  dogs  be 
gan  to  growl,  and  to  betray  other  symptoms  of  hav 
ing  discovered  or  suspected  an  enemy.  All  this 
Bellows  understood  perfectly  well ;  nor  was  he  at  a 
loss  in  forming  his  opinion  as  to  the  state  of  the 
case.  He  had  no  doubt  the  Indians  were  close  at 
hand  in  ambush,  and  he  took  his  measures  accord 
ingly.  He  ordered  all  his  men,  about  thirty,  to 
throw  down  their  meal,  and  advance  to  the  rising 
ground  just  above  them,  carefully  crawl  up  the  bank, 
spring  upon  their  feet,  give  one  shout,  and  instantly 
drop  down  among  the  tall  fern,  which  in  that  place 
covered  the  ground. 

The  manoeuvre  succeeded  ;  for  as  soon  as  the  shout 
was  heard,  the  Indians  all  rose  in  a  semicircle  round 
the  path  Bellows  was  to  pursue.  This  gave  the 
party  a  fine  chance  for  a  fair  shot,  and  they  im 
proved  it  promptly  by  a  general  discharge,  which 
so  disconcerted  the  plans  of  the  Indians  that  they 


darted  away  into  the  bushes  without  firing  a  gun. 
Bellows  found,  however,  that  their  party  was  too 
numerous  for  his,  and  he  ordered  his  men  to  file  off 
to  the  south,  and  make  for  the  fort.  Not  long  after 
these  Indians  came  out  on  the  eminence  east  of  Kil 
burn's  house.  Here  the  "  Old  Devil"  Philip,  as  he 
was  now  generally  called, — being  the  same  wily 
savage  who  had  visited  Kilburn's  house  the  season 
previous,  —  came  forward,  securing  himself  behind 
a  large  tree,  and  called  out  loudly  to  those  in  the 
house  to  surrender.  "  Old  John,  young  John"  he 
cried,  "  /  know  you ;  come  out  here ;  we  give  good 
quarter"  "  Quarter  ! "  shouted  Kilburn  from  the 
house,  with  a  tremendous  voice,  that  thrilled  through 
every  Indian  heart,  "  quarter,  you  black  rascals !  be 
gone,  or  we  will  quarter  you  ! }> 

Thus  disappointed  in  his  application,  Philip  re 
turned  to  the  main  body  of  his  companions.  After 
a  few  minutes'  consultation,  the  Indian  war  whoop 
was  raised,  as  if,  in  Kilburn's  language,  "  all  the  devils 
had  been  let  loose"  Kilburn  was  nothing  daunted  by 
this  performance,  however,  and  he  even  managed  to 
get  the  first  fire,  before  the  smoke  of  his  enemies' 
guns  obstructed  his  aim.  He  was  confident  that  this 
discharge  brought  down  an  Indian,  who,  from  his  ex 
traordinary  size,  and  other  circumstances,  appeared 
to  be  Philip.  A  moment  after  the  companions  of 
the  fallen  savage,  now  mustered  in  full  force,  rushed 
forward  to  the  work  of  destruction  ;  and  probably 
not  fewer  than  four  hundred  bullets  were  lodged  in 
Kilburn's  house  at  the  first  fire.  The  roof  especially 


KILBURN'S  DEFENCE.  69 

was  made  a  perfect  "riddle  sieve."  This  leaden 
shower  was  kept  up  for  some  time,  with  an  incessant 
blaze  and  clamor,  while  detachments  of  the  enemy 
were  amusing  themselves  with  butchering  the  stray 
cattle,  and  destroying  the  hay  and  grain,  in  the  sur 
rounding  meadow. 

Kilburn  and  his  men,  meanwhile,  were  by  no 
means  idle.  The  powder  was  already  poured  out 
into  hats,  for  the  convenience  of  loading  in  a  hurry, 
and  every  thing  prepared  for  a  spirited  defence  or 
a  glorious  death.  They  had  several  guns  in  the 
house,  all  of  which  were  kept  hot  by  incessant  firing 
through  the  port-holes.  As  they  had  no  ammunition 
to  spare,  each  one  took  special  aim,  to  have  every 
bullet  tell.  The  women  assisted  in  loading  the  guns. 
When  the  stock  of  lead  grew  scanty,  they  had  also 
the  presence  of  mind  to  suspend  blankets  horizon 
tally  near  the  roof  of  the  house,  inside,  to  catch  the 
enemy's  balls.  These  they  immediately  run  into  new 
bullets,  if  necessary,  which  the  men  took  upon  them 
selves  to  have  returned  to  the  savages  with  interest. 

They  made  several  attempts  to  burst  open  the 
doors  of  the  house  ;  but  the  fire  of  the  brave  little 
garrison  was  too  hot  for  them.  Most  of  the  time, 
therefore,  they  endeavored  to  keep  behind  stumps, 
logs,  and  trees,  evidently  showing  by  this  manage 
ment  that  they  began  to  feel  the  force  of  the  remark 
made  to  them  by  Kilburn,  as  we  have  seen,  at  the 
onset.  An  incessant  firing,  however,  was  kept  up  on 
their  part  until  near  sundown.  Then  they  gradu 
ally  retreated  ;  and  when  the  sun  sank  behind  the 


70 

western  hills,  the  sound  of  their  guns  and  the  cry 
of  the  war  whoop  died  away  in  silence.  How  many 
of  the  enemy  fell  on  this  occasion  never  was  ascer 
tained.  Of  the  little  garrison,  Peak  only  was 
wounded  in  the  hip,  by  exposing  himself  too  much 
before  a  port-hole  ;  and,  for  want  of  surgical  aid, 
this  proved  fatal  on  the  sixth  day.  The  French  and 
Indian  war  continued  until  1763  ;  but  the  village 
of  "Walpole  was  not  afterwards  molested  in  any 
instance  by  the  enemy. 

Kilburn  was  as  upright  and  worthy  as  he  was 
brave,  and  lived  to  see  that  town  populous  and 
flourishing,  and  his  fourth  generation  upon  the 
stage.  A  plain,  unpolished  stone  points  out  the 
spot  in  the  burying  ground  of  the  village  where 
sleep  his  mortal  remains,  under  this  inscription  :  — 

In  memory  of 

John  Kilburn,  who  departed 

this  life  for  a  better,  April  8th,  1789,  in 

the  85th  year  of  his  age.     He  was 

the  first  settler  of  this  town, 

in  1749. 

His  son,  "young  John,"  revisited  this  scene  of 
his  youthful  exploits  for  the  last  time  in  1814.  He 
died  in  1822,  among  his  children  at  Shrewsbury, 
Yermont. 


INDIAN  BRIDGE. 

FROM  THE  HISTORICAL  COLLECTIONS  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 
1753. 

IN  the  fall  of  the  year  1753,  Sabatis  and  Plausa 
wa,  two  Indians,  were  at  the  place  where  Deacon 
Sawyer  now  lives,  in  Canterbury.  There  Joshua 
Noyes  and  Thomas  Thorla,  from  Newbury,  who  were 
looking  after  cattle  which  had  been  turned  into  the 
woods  the  spring  before,  met  them.  Plausawa  had 
been  several  times  at  Newbury,  and  knew  Noyes 
and  Thorla,  and  they  knew  him.  The  Indians  ap 
peared  not  much  pleased  at  seeing  them,  and  began 
to  put  their  baggage  into  their  canoe,  and  to  pre 
pare  to  go  away.  Sabatis  appeared  sullen,  and  dis 
posed  to  do  mischief,  but  was  kept  from  it  by  Plau 
sawa.  Noyes  and  Thorla  proposed  to  buy  their  furs. 
At  first  they  refused  to  sell,  saying  they  would  not 
trade  with  the  English,  but  would  go  to  Canada. 
Afterwards  they  offered  to  sell  furs  for  rum.  Those 
men  had  brought  rum  on  purpose  to  trade  with  the 
Indians  ;  but  seeing  their  temper,  especially  that  of 
Sabatis,  they  refused  to  let  them  have  any,  and  con 
cluded  to  go  away  and  leave  them.  As  they  were 
departing,  Plausawa  in  a  friendly  manner  advised 

(71) 


72  INDIAN  BRIDGE. 

them  to  go  home,  and  to  avoid  meeting  with  the  In 
dians,  lest  they  should  be  hurt.  When  they  had 
gone  a  little  distance  from  the  Indians,  Sabatis  called 
them,  and  said,  "  No  more  you  English  come  here ; 
me  heart  bad  —  me  kill  you."  Thorla  replied,  "  No 
kill ;  English  and  Indians  now  all  brothers."  They 
soon  met  Peter  Bowen  going  towards  the  Indians, 
told  him  in  what  temper  the  Indians  were,  and  ad 
vised  him  not  to  go  to  them,  and  by  no  means  to  let 
them  have  a  drop  of  rum.  He  replied  that  he  was 
not  afraid  of  them ;  that  he  was  acquainted  with 
Indians,  and  knew  how  to  deal  with  them.  The 
Indians  had  got  into  their  canoe,  and  were  going  up 
the  river.  Bowen  called  them,  and  asked  them  to 
go  to  his  house  and  stay  that  night,  and  told  them 
he  would  give  them  some  rum.  It  was  then  near 
night.  They  went  with  Bowen  to  his  house,  which 
was  in  Contoocook,  at  some  distance  below  where 
they  then  were.  He  treated  them  freely  with  rum, 
which  made  them  at  first  very  well  pleased  ;  but  as 
they  became  more  intoxicated,  they  began  to  be 
troublesome.  Bowen,  who  had  every  quality  of  an 
Indian,  had  lived  much  with  them,  and  knew  per 
fectly  well  how  they  would  conduct,  fearing  they 
might  do  mischief,  took  the  precaution  to  make  his 
wife  engage  their  attention,  while  he  drew  the 
charges  from  their  guns,  which  were  left  behind  the 
door  in  the  entry.  After  this  was  done,  the  night 
was  spent  in  a  drunken  Indian  frolic,  for  which 
Bowen  had  as  good  a  relish  as  his  guests.  The  next 
morning  they  asked  Bowen  to  go  with  his  horse  and 


IXDIAN   BRIDGE.  73 

carry  their  baggage  to  the  place  where  their  canoe 
was  left  the  evening  before.  He  went,  and  carried 
their  packs  on  his  horse.  As  they  went,  Sabatis  pro 
posed  to  run  a  race  with  the  horse.  Bo  wen,  suspect 
ing  mischief  was  intended,  declined  the  race,  but 
finally  consented  to  run.  He,  however,  took  care  to 
let  the  Indian  outrun  the  horse.  Sabatis  laughed 
heartily  at  Bowen,  because  the  horse  could  run  no 
faster.  They  then  proceeded,  apparently  in  good 
humor.  After  a  while,  Sabatis  said  to  Bowen, 
"  Bowen  walk  woods,"  meaning,  "  Go  with  me  as  a 
prisoner."  Bowen  said,  "  No  walk  woods  ;  all  one 
brothers."  They  went  on  together  until  they  were 
near  the  canoe,  when  Sabatis  proposed  a  second 
race,  and  that  the  horse  should  be  unloaded  of  the 
baggage,  and  should  start  a  little  before  him. 
Bowen  refused  to  start  so,  but  consented  to  start 
together.  They  ran,  and  as  soon  as  the  horse  had 
got  a  little  before  the  Indian,  Bowen  heard  a  gun 
snap.  Looking  round,  he  saw  the  smoke  of  powder, 
and  the  gun  aimed  at  him  ;  he  turned  and  struck 
his  tomahawk  in  the  Indian's  head.  He  went  back 
to  meet  Plausawa,  who,  seeing  the  fate  of  Sabatis, 
took  aim  with  his  gun  at  Bowen  ;  the  gun  flashed. 
Plausawa  fell  on  his  knees,  and  begged  for  his  life. 
He  pleaded  his  innocence  and  former  friendship  for 
the  English  ;  but  all  in  vain.  Bowen  knew  there 
would  be  no  safety  for  him  while  the  companion  and 
friend  of  Sabatis  was  living.  To  secure  himself,  he 
buried  the  same  tomahawk  in  the  skull  of  Plausawa. 
This  was  done  in  the  road  on  the  bank  of  Merrimac 
7 


74  INDIAN   BRIDGE.  , 

Kiver,  near  the  northerly  line  of  Contoocook,  now 
Boscawen.  Bowen  hid  the  dead  bodies  under  a 
small  bridge  in  Salisbury.  The  next  spring  the 
bodies  were  discovered  and  buried.*  That  bridge 
has  ever  since,  to  this  day,  been  called  INDIAN 
BRIDGE. 


*  It  is  due  to  history,  as  well  as  to  the  credit  of  a  race  already  too 
ranch,  maligned,  to  state  that  the  killing  of  Plausawa  and  Sabatis  was 
considered  a  murder,  both  by  the  St.  Francis  tribe  of  Indians,  to  which 
they  belonged,  and  by  the  authorities  of  New  Hampshire,  who  seized 
upon  Bowen  and  one  other,  and  imprisoned  them  in  the  Portsmouth 
jail,  whence,  however,  they  were  liberated  by  an  armed  mob,  the  peo 
ple  generally  considering  the  killing  of  an  Indian  a  meritorious  act, 
Bowen  was  aware  that  the  half-intoxicated  Indians  were  in  a  state  of 
irritation  against  the  whites;  nevertheless  he  invited  them  to  his 
house,  and  gave  them  every  opportunity  to  vent  their  feelings.  He 
had  them  completely  in  his  power,  though  they  did  not  know  it.  It 
'  would  seem  also  that  gratitude  as  well  as  mercy  should  have  led  him  to 
spare  their  lives.  A  reference  to  the  "  Captivity  of  Mrs.  M'Coy  "  will 
show  that  Plausawa  had  before  this  saved  the  Kfe  of  one  of  the  set 
tlers,  when  in  a  very  critical  situation. 


THE    CAPTIVITY    AND    SUFFERINGS    OF 
MRS.  JEMIMA.  HOWE, 

TAKEN  PRISONER  BY  THE  INDIANS  AT  BRIDGMAN'S  FORT,  IN  THE 
PRESENT  TOWN  OF  VERNON,  VT.  COMMUNICATED  TO  DR.  BEL- 
KNAP  BY  THE  REV.  BUNKER  GAY. 

1755. 

As  Messrs.  Caleb  Howe,  Hilkiah  Grout,  and  Ben 
jamin  Gaffield,  who  had  been  hoeing  corn  in  the 
meadow,  west  of  the  river,  were  returning  home  a 
little  before  sunset,  to  a  place  called  Bridgman's 
Fort,  they  were  fired  upon  by  twelve  Indians,  who 
had  ambushed  their  path.  Howe  was  on  horseback, 
with  two  young  lads,  his  children,  behind  him.  A 
ball,  which  broke  his  thigh,  brought  him  to  the 
ground.  His  horse  ran  a  few  rods,  and  fell  like 
wise,  and  both  the  lads  were  taken.  The  Indians, 
in  their  savage  manner,  coming  up  to  Howe,  pierced 
his  body  with  a  spear,  tore  off  his  scalp,  stuck  a 
hatchet  in  his  head,  and  left  him  in  this  forlorn  con 
dition.  He  was  found  alive  the  morning  after  by 
a  party  of  men  from  Fort  Hinsdale  ;  and  being 
asked  by  one  of  the  party  whether  he  knew  him,  he 
answered,  "  Yes,  I  know  you  all."  These  were  his 
last  words,  though  he  did  not  expire  until  after  his 

(75) 


76  THE   CAPTIVITY  AND   SUFFERINGS 

friends  had  arrived  with  him  at  Fort  Hinsdale. 
Grout  was  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  unhurt ;  but 
Gaffield,  in  attempting  to  wade  through  the  river, 
at  a  certain  place  which  was  indeed  fordable  at  that 
time,  was  unfortunately  drowned.  Flushed  with 
the  success  they  had  met  with  here,  the  savages 
went  directly  to  Bridgman's  Fort.  There  was  no 
man  in  it,  and  only  three  women  and  some  children, 
viz.,  Mrs.  Jemima  Howe,  Mrs.  Submit  Grout,  and 
Mrs.  Eunice  Gaffield.  Their  husbands  I  need  not 
mention  again,  and  their  feelings  at  this  juncture  I 
will  not  attempt  to  describe.  They  had  heard  the 
enemy's  guns,  but  knew  not  what  had  happened  to 
their  friends.  Extremely  anxious  for  their  safety, 
they  stood  longing  to  embrace  them,  until  at  length, 
concluding  from  the  noise  they  heard  without  that 
some  of  them  were  come,  they  unbarred  the  gate  in 
a  hurry  to  receive  them  ;  when,  lo !  to  their  inex 
pressible  disappointment  and  surprise,  instead  of 
their  husbands,  in  rushed  a  number  of  hideous  In 
dians,  to  whom  they  and  their  tender  offspring  be 
came  an  easy  prey,  and  from  whom  they  had  nothing 
to  expect  but  either  an  immediate  death  or  a  long 
and  doleful  captivity.  The  latter  of  these,  by  the 
favor  of  Providence,  turned  out  to  be  the  lot  of 
these  unhappy  women,  and  their  still  more  unhappy, 
because  more  helpless,  children.  Mrs.  Gaffield  had 
but  one,  Mrs.  Grout  had  three,  and  Mrs.  Howe 
seven.  The  eldest  of  Mrs.  Howe's  was  eleven 
years  old,  and  the  youngest  but  six  months.  The 
two  eldest  were  daughters  which  she  had  by  her 


OF   MRS.  JEMIMA   HOWE.  77 

first  husband,  Mr.  William  Phipps,  who  was  also 
slain  by  the  Indians.  It  was  from  the  mouth  of 
this  woman  that  I  lately  received  the  foregoing  ac 
count.  She  also  gave  me,  I  doubt  not,  a  true,  though, 
to  be  sure,  a  very  brief  and  imperfect  history  of  her 
captivity,  which  I  here  insert  for  your  perusal.  It 
may  perhaps  afford  you  some  amusement,  and  can 
do  no  harm,  if,  after  it  has  undergone  your  critical 
inspection,  you  should  not  think  it  (or  an  abbrevia 
tion  of  it)  worthy  to  be  preserved  among  the  records 
you  are  about  to  publish. 

The  Indians  (she  says)  having  plundered  and  put 
fire  to  the  fort,  we  marched,  as  near  as  I  could  judge, 
a  mile  and  a  half  into  the  woods,  where  we  en 
camped  that  night.  When  the  morning  came,  and 
we  had  advanced  as  much  farther,  six  Indians  were 
sent  back  to  the  place  of  our  late  abode,  who  col 
lected  a  little  more  plunder,  and  destroyed  some  other 
effects  that  had  been  left  behind  ;  but  they  did  not 
return  until  the  day  was  so  far  spent  that  it  was 
judged  best  to  continue  where  we  were  through  the 
night.  Early  the  next  morning  we  set  off  for  Can 
ada,  and  continued  our  march  eight  days  succes 
sively,  until  we  had  reached  the  place  where  the 
Indians  had  left  their  canoes,  about  fifteen  miles 
from  Crown  Point.  This  was  a  long  and  tedious 
march  ;  but  the  captives,  by  divine  assistance,  were 
enabled  to  endure  it  with  less  trouble  and  difficulty 
than  they  had  reason  to  expect.  From  such  savage 
masters,  in  such  indigent  circumstances,  we  could 
not  rationally  hope  for  kinder  treatment  than  we 
7* 


78  THE   CAPTIVITY   AND   SUFFERINGS 

received.  Some  of  us,  it  is  true,  had  a  harder  lot 
rthan  others  ;  and,  among  the  children,  I  thought  my 
son  Squire  had  the  hardest  of  any.  He  was  then 
only  four  years  old  ;  and  when  we  stopped  to  rest 
our  weary  limbs,  and  he  sat  down  on  his  master's 
pack,  the  savage  monster  would  often  knock  him  off, 
and  sometimes,  too,  with  the  handle  of  his  hatchet. 
Several  ugly  marks,  indented  in  his  head  by  the 
cruel  Indians  at  that  tender  age,  are  still  plainly  to 
be  seen. 

At  length  we  arrived  at  Crown  Point,  and  took 
up  our  quarters  there  for  the  space  of  near  a  week. 
In  the  mean  time  some  of  the  Indians  went  to  Mon 
treal,  and  took  several  of  the  weary  captives  along 
with  them,  with  a  view  of  selling  them  to  the  French. 
They  did  not  succeed,  however,  in  finding  a  market 
for  any  of  them.  They  gave  my  youngest  daughter, 
Submit  Phipps,  to  the  governor,  De  Vaudreuil,  had 
a  drunken  frolic,  and  returned  again  to  Crown 
Point,  with  the  rest  of  their  prisoners.  From  hence 
we  set  off  for  St.  John's,  in  four  or  five  canoes,  just 
as  night  was  coming  on,  and  were  soon  surrounded 
with  darkness.  A  heavy  storm  hung  over  us.  The 
sound  of  the  rolling  thunder  was  very  terrible  upon 
the  waters,  which,  at  every  flash  of  expansive  light 
ning,  seemed  to  be  all  in  a  blaze.  Yet  to  this  we 
were  indebted  for  all  the  light  we  enjoyed.  No 
object  could  we  discern  any  longer  than  the  flashes 
lasted.  In  this  posture  we  sailed  in  our  open,  tot 
tering  canoes  almost  the  whole  of  that  dreary  night. 
The  morning,  indeed,  had  not  yet  begun  to  dawn, 


OF   MRS.  JEMIMA   HOWE,  79 

When  we  all  went  ashore  ;  and,  having  collected  a 
heap  of  sand  and  gravel  for  a  pillow,  I  laid  myself 
down,  with  my  tender  infant  by  my  side,  not  know 
ing  where  any  of  my  other  children  were,  or  what  a 
miserable  condition  they  might  be  in.  The  next 
day,  however,  under  the  wing  of  that  ever-present 
and  all-powerful  Providence  which  had  preserved 
us  through  the  darkness  and  imminent  dangers  of 
the  preceding  night,  we  all  arrived  in  safety  at  St. 
John's. 

Our  next  movement  was  to  St.  Francis,  the  me 
tropolis,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  to  which  the  Indians 
who  led  us  captive  belonged.  Soon  after  our  arrival 
at  their  wretched  capital,  a  council,  consisting  of 
the  chief  sachem  and  some  principal  warriors  of 
the  St.  Francis  tribe,  was  convened  ;  and  after  the 
ceremonies  usual  on  such  occasions  were  over,  I  was 
conducted  and  delivered  to  an  old  squaw,  whom  the 
Indians  told  me  I  must  call  my  mother  —  my  infant 
still  continuing  to  be  the  property  of  its  original 
Indian  owners.  I  was  nevertheless  permitted  to 
keep  it  with  me  a  while  longer,  for  the  sake  of  sav 
ing  them  the  trouble  of  looking  after  it,  and  of 
maintaining  it  with  my  milk.  When  the  weather 
began  to  grow  cold,  shuddering  at  the  prospect  of 
approaching  winter,  I  acquainted  my  new  mother 
that  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to 
endure  it  if  I  must  spend  it  with  her,  and  fare  as  the 
Indians  did.  Listening  to  my  repeated  and  earnest 
solicitations  that  I  might  be  disposed  of  among 
some  of  the  French  inhabitants  of  Canada,  she  at 


80  THE    CAPTIVITY  AND   SUFFERINGS 

length  set  off  with  me  and  my  infant,  attended  by 
some  male  Indians,  upon  a  journey  to  Montreal,  in 
hopes  of  finding  a  market  for  me  there.  But  the 
attempt  proved  unsuccessful,  and  the  journey  tedious 
indeed.  Our  provisions  were  so  scanty,  as  well  as 
insipid  and  unsavory,  the  weather  was  so  cold,  and 
the  travelling  so  very  bad,  that  it  often  seemed  as 
if  I  must  have  perished  on  the  way.  The  lips  of 
my  poor  child  were  sometimes  so  "benumbed  that 
when  I  put  it  to  my  breast,  it  could  not,  till  it  grew 
warm,  imbibe  the  nourishment  requisite  for  its  sup 
port.  While  we  were  at  Montreal,  we  went  into 
the  house  of  a  certain  French  gentleman,  whose 
lady,  being  sent  for,  and  coming  into  the  room 
where  I  was,  to  examine  me,  seeing  I  had  an  infant, 
exclaimed  suddenly  in  this  manner  :  "  Damn  it,  I 
will  not  buy  a  woman  that  has  a  child  to  look  after." 
There  was  a  swill  pail  standing  near  me,  in  which  I 
observed  some  crusts  and  crumbs  of  bread  swimming 
on  the  surface  of  the  greasy  liquor  it  contained. 
Sorely  pinched  with  hunger,  I  skimmed  them  off 
with  my  hands,  and  ate  them  ;  and  this  was  all  the 
refreshment  which  the  house  afforded  me.  Some- 
where,  in  the  course  of  this  visit  to  Montreal,  my 
Indian  mother  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  catch  the 
small  pox,  of  which  distemper  she  died,  soon  after 
our  return,  which  was  by  water,  to  St.  Francis. 

And  now  came  on  the  season  when  the  Indians 
began  to  prepare  for  a  winter's  hunt.  I  was  ordered 
to  return  my  poor  child  to  those  of  them  who  still 
claimed  it  as  their  property.  This  was  a  severe 


OF   MRS.  JEMIMA    HOWE.  81 

trial.  The  babe  clung  to  my  bosom  with  all  its 
might ;  but  I  was  obliged  to  pluck  it  thence,  and 
deliver  it,  shrieking  arid  screaming,  enough  to  pen 
etrate  a  heart  of  stone,  into  the  hands  of  those  un 
feeling  wretches,  whose  tender  mercies  may  be 
termed  cruel.  It  was  soon  carried  off  by  a  hunting 
party  of  those  Indians  to  a  place  called  Messiskow, 
at  the  lower  end  of  Lake  Champlain,  whither,  in 
about  a  month  after,  it  was  my  fortune,  to  follow 
them.  I  had  preserved  my  milk,  in  hopes  of  seeing 
my  beloved  child  again  ;  and  here  I  found  it,  it  is 
true,  but  in  a  condition  that  afforded  me  no  great 
satisfaction,  it  being  greatly  emaciated  and  almost 
starved.  I  took  it  in  my  arms,  put  its  face  to  mine, 
arid  it  iristantly^bit  me  with  such  violence  that  it 
seemed  as  if  I  must  have  parted  with  a  piece  of  my 
cheek.  I  was  permitted  to  lodge  with  it  that  and 
the  two  following  nights  :  but  every  morning  that 
intervened,  the  Indians,  I  suppose  on  purpose  to  tor 
ment  me,  sent  me  away  to  another  wigwam,  which 
stood  at  a  little  distance,  though  not  so  far  from  the 
one  in  which  my  distressed  infant  was  confined  but 
that  I  could  plainly  hear  its  incessant  cries  and 
heart-rending  lamentations.  In  this  deplorable  con 
dition  I  was  obliged  to  take  my  leave  of  it,  on  the 
morning  of  the  third  day  after  my  arrival  at  the 
place.  We  moved  down  the  lake  several  miles  the 
same  day  ;  and  the  night  following  was  remarkable 
on  account  of  the  great  earthquake*  which  terribly 

*  November  18,  1755. 


82  THE   CAPTIVITY   AND   SUFFERINGS 

shook  that  howling  wilderness.  Among  the  islands 
hereabout  we  spent  the  winter  season,  often  shifting 
our  quarters,  and  roving  about  from  one  place  to 
another,  our  family  consisting  of  three  persons  only, 
besides  myself,  viz. :  niy  late  mother's  daughter, 
whom,  therefore,  I  called  my  sister,  her  sanhop,* 
and  a  pappoose.  They  once  left  me  alone  two  dismal 
nights  ;  and  when  they  returned  to  me  again,  per 
ceiving  them  smile  at  each  other,  I  asked,  "  What  is 
the  matter  ? "  They  replied  that  two  of  my  chil 
dren  were  no  more  ;  one  of  which,  they  said,  died  a 
natural  death,  and  the  other  was  knocked  on  the 
head.  I  did  not  utter  many  words,  but  my  heart 
was  sorely  pained  within  me,  and  ray  mind  exceed 
ingly  troubled  with  strange  and  awful  ideas.  I 
often  imagined,  for  instance,  that  I  plainly  saw  the 
naked  carcasses  of  my  deceased  children  hanging 
upon  the  limbs  of  the  trees,  as  the  Indians  are  wont 
to  hang  the  raw  hides  of  those  beasts  which  they 
take  in  hunting. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  it  was  so  ordered 
by  kind  Providence  that  I  should  be  relieved  in  a 
good  measure  from  those  horrid  imaginations  ;  for, 
as  I  was  walking  one  day  upon  the  ice,  observing  a 
smoke  at  some  distance  upon  the  land,  it  must  pro 
ceed,  thought  I,  from  the  fire  of  some  Indian  hut ; 
and  who  knows  but  some  one  of  my  poor  children 
may  be  there?  My  curiosity,  thus  excited,  led  me 
to  the  place,  and  there  I  found  my  son  Caleb,  a 
little  boy  between  two  and  three  years  old,  whom  I 

*  Warrior  husband. 


OF   MRS.  JEMIMA   HOWE.  83 

had  lately  buried,  in  sentiment  at  least,  or,  rather, 
imagined  to  have  been  deprived  of  life,  and  perhaps 
also  denied  a  decent  grave.  I  found  him  likewise 
in  tolerable  health  and  circumstances,  under  the 
protection  of  a  fond  Indian  mother  ;  and,  more 
over,  had  the  happiness  of  lodging  with  him  in  my 
arms  one  joyful  night.  Again  we  shifted  our  quar 
ters,  and  when  we  had  travelled  eight  or  ten  miles 
upon  the  snow  and  ice,  came  to  a  place  where  the 
Indians  manufactured  sugar,  which  they  extracted 
from  the  maple  trees.  Here  an  Indian  came  to  visit 
us,  whom  I  knew,  and  could  speak  English.  He 
asked  me  why  I  did  not  go  to  see  my  son  Squire. 
I  replied  that  I  had  lately  been  informed  that  he 
was  dead.  He  assured  me  that  he  was  yet  alive, 
and  but  two  or  three  miles  off,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  lake.  At  my  request  he  gave  me  the  best 
directions  he  could  to  the  place  of  his  abode.  I 
resolved  to  embrace  the  first  opportunity  that 
offered  of  endeavoring  to  search  it  out.  While  I 
was  busy  in  contemplating  this  affair,  the  Indians 
obtained  a  little  bread,  of  which  they  gave  me  a 
small  share.  I  did  not  taste  a  morsel  of  it  myself, 
but  saved  it  all  for  my  poor  child,  if  I  should  be  so 
lucky  as  to  find  him.  At  length,  having  obtained 
from  my  keepers  leave  to  be  absent  for  one  day,  I 
set  off  early  in  the  morning,  and  steering  as  well 
as  I  could,  according  to  the  directions  which  the 
friendly  Indian  had  given  me,  I  quickly  found  the 
place  which  he  had  so  accurately  marked  out.  I 
beheld,  as  I  drew  nigh,  my  little  son  without  the 


84  THE   CAPTIVITY   AND    SUFFERINGS 

camp  ;  but  he  looked,  thought  I,  like  a  starved  and 
mangy  puppy,  that  had  been  wallowing  in  the  ashes. 
I  took  him  in  my  arms,  and  he  spoke  to  me  these 
words,  in  the  Indian  tongue  :  "  Mother,  are  you 
come  ?  "  I  took  him  into  the  wigwam  with  me,  and 
observing  a  number  of  Indian  children  in  it,  I  dis 
tributed  all  the  bread  which  I  had  reserved  for  my 
own  child  among  them  all,  otherwise  I  should  have 
given  great  offence.  My  little  boy  appeared  to  be 
very  fond  of  his  new  mother,  kept  as  near  me  as 
possible  while  I  staid,  and  when  I  told  him  I  must 
go,  he  fell  as  though  he  had  been  knocked  down 
with  a  club.  But,  having  recommended  him  to  the 
care  of  Him  that  made  him,  when  the  day  was  far 
spent,  and  the  time  would  permit  me  to  stay  no 
longer,  I  departed,  you  may  well  suppose  with  a 
heavy  load  at  my  heart.  The  tidings  I  had  received 
of  the  death  of  my  youngest  child  had,  a  little  be 
fore,  been  confirmed  to  me  beyond  a  doubt ;  but  I 
could  not  mourn  so  heartily  for  the  deceased  as  for 
the  living  child. 

When  the  winter  broke  up,  we  removed  to  St. 
John's  ;  and  through  the  ensuing  summer  our  prin 
cipal  residence  was  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
fort  at  that  place.  In  the  n/.>un  time,  however,  my 
sister's  husband,  having  K:cn  out  with  a  scouting 
party  to  some  of  the  English  settlements,  had  a 
drunken  frolic  at  the  fort  when  he  returned.  His 
wife,  who  never  got  drunk,  but  had  often  experi 
enced  the  ill  effects  of  her  husband's  intemperance, 
fearing  what  the  consequence  might  prove  if  he 


OF   MRS.   JEMIMA   HOWE.  85 

should  come  home  in  a  morose  and  turbulent  humor, 
to  avoid  his  insolence,  proposed  that  we  should  both 
retire,  and  keep  out  of  the  reach  of  it  until  the 
storm  abated.  We  absconded,  accordingly  ;  but  it 
so  happened  that  I  returned  and  ventured  into  his 
presence  before  his  wife  had  presumed  to  come  nigh 
him.  I  found  him  in  his  wigwam,  and  in  a  surly 
mood  ;  and  not  being  able  to  revenge  upon  his  wife, 
because  she  was  not  at  home,  he  laid  hold  of  me, 
and  hurried  me  to  the  fort,  and,  for  a  trifling  con 
sideration,  sold  me  to  a  French  gentleman  whose 
name  was  Saccapee.  "  7Tis  an  ill  wind  certainly 
that  blows  nobody  any  good."  I  had  been  with  the 
Indians  a  year  lacking  fourteen  days  ;  and  if  not 
for  my  sister,  yet  for  me  'twas  a  lucky  circumstance 
indeed  which  thus  at  last,  in  an  unexpected  moment, 
snatched  me  out  of  their  cruel  hands,  and  placed 
me  beyond  the  reach  of  their  insolent  power. 

After  my  Indian  master  had  disposed  of  me  in 
the  manner  related  above,  and  the  moment  of  sober- 
reflection  had  arrived,  perceiving  that  the  man  who 
bought  me  had  taken  the  advantage  of  him  in  an 
unguarded  hour,  his  resentment  began  to  kindle, 
and  his  indignation  rose  so  high  that  he  threatened 
to  kill  me  if  he  should  meet  me  alone,  or,  if  he 
could  not  revenge  himself  thus,  that  he  would  sei 
fire  to  the  fort.  I  was  therefore  secreted  in  an 
upper  chamber,  and  the  fort  carefully  guarded,  until 
his  wrath  had  time  to  cool.  My  service  in  the  fam 
ily  to  which  I  was  now  advanced  was  perfect  free 
dom  in  comparison  of  what  it  had  been  among  the 


86  THE   CAPTIVITY  AND  SUFFERINGS 

barbarous  Indians.  My  new  master  and  mistress 
were  both  as  kind  and  generous  towards  me  as  I 
could  any  ways  expect.  I  seldom  asked  a  favor  of 
either  of  them  but  it  was  readily  granted  ;  in  con 
sequence  of  which  I  had  it  in  my  power  in  many 
instances  to  administer  aid  and  refreshment  to  the 
poor  prisoners  of  my  own  nation  who  were  brought 
into  St.  John's  during  my  abode  in  the  family  of  the 
above-mentioned  benevolent  and  hospitable  Sacca- 
pee.  Yet  even  in  this  family  such  trials  awaited 
me  as  I  had  little  reason  to  expect ;  but  I  stood  in 
need  of  a  large  stock  of  prudence  to  enable  rne  to 
encounter  them.  Must  I  tell  you,  then,  that  even 
the  good  old  man  himself,  who  considered  me  as  his 
property,  and  likewise  a  warm  and  resolute  son  of 
his,  at  that  same  time,  and  under  the  same  roof,  be 
came  both  excessively  fond  of  my  company  ?  so  that 
between  these  two  rivals  —  the  father  and  the  son 
—  I  found  myself  in  a  very  critical  situation  in 
deed,  and  was  greatly  embarrassed  and  perplexed, 
hardly  knowing  many  times  how  to  behave  in  such 
a  manner  as  at  once  to  secure  my  own  virtue  and 
the  good  esteem  of  the  family  in  which  I  resided, 
and  upon  which  I  was  wholly  dependent  for  my 
daily  support.  At  length,  however,  through  the 
tender  compassion  of  a  certain  English  gentleman,* 
the  governor,  De  Vaudreuil,  being  made  acquainted 
with  the  condition  I  had  fallen  into,  immediately 
ordered  the  young  and  amorous  Saccapee,  then  an 
officer  in  the  French  army,  from  the  field  of  Venus 

*  Colonel  Peter  Schuyler,  then  a  prisoner. 


OP   MRS.  JEMIMA   HOWE.  87 

to  the  field  of  Mars,  and  at  the  same  time  also  wrote 
a  letter  to  his  father,  enjoining  it  upon  him  by  no 
moans  to  suffer  me  to  be  abused,  but  to  make  my 
situation  and  service  in  his  family  as  easy  and  de 
lightful  as  possible.  I  was,  moreover,  under  un 
speakable  obligations  to  the  governor  upon  another 
account.  I  had  received  intelligence  from  my  daugh 
ter  Mary,  the  purport  of  which  was,  that  there  was 
a  prospect  of  her  being  shortly  married  to  a  young 
Indian  of  the  tribe  of  St.  Francis,  with  which  tribe 
she  had  continued  from  the  beginning  of  her  cap 
tivity.  These  were  heavy  tidings,  and  added  greatly 
to  the  poignancy  of  my  other  afflictions.  However, 
not  long  after  I  had  heard  this  melancholy  news,  an 
opportunity  presented  of  acquainting  that  humane 
and  generous  gentleman,  the  commander-in-chief, 
and  my  illustrious  benefactor,  with  this  affair  also, 
who,  in  compassion  for  my  sufferings,  and  to  miti 
gate  my  sorrows,  issued  his  orders  in  good  time, 
and  had  my  daughter  taken  away  from  the  Indians, 
and  conveyed  to  the  same  nunnery  where  her  sister 
was  then  lodged,  with  his  express  injunction  that 
they  should  both  of  them  together  be  well  looked 
after  and  carefully  educated,  as  his  adopted  chil 
dren.  In  this  school  of  superstition  and  bigotry 
they  continued  while  the  war  in  those  days  between 
France  and  Great  Britain  lasted  ;  at  the  conclusion 
of  which  war  the  governor  went  home  to  France, 
took  my  oldest  daughter  along  with  him,  and  mar 
ried  her  to  a  French  gentleman,  whose  name  is  Cron 
Louis.  He  was  at  Boston  with  the  fleet  under 


88  THE   CAPTIVITY   AND    SUFFERINGS 

Count  d'Estaing,  (1778,)  as  one  of  his  clerks.  My 
other  daughter  still  continuing  in  the  nunnery,  a 
considerable  time  had  elapsed  after  my  return  from 
captivity,  when  I  made  a  journey  to  Canada,  resolv 
ing  to  use  my  best  endeavors  not  to  return  without 
her.  I  arrived  just  in  time  to  prevent  her  being 
sent  to  France.  She  was  to  have  gone  in  the  next 
vessel  that  sailed  for  that  place  ;  and  I  found  it  ex 
tremely  difficult  to  prevail  with  her  to  quit  the  nun 
nery  and  go  home  with  me  ;  yea,  she  absolutely 
refused  ;  and  all  the  persuasions  and  arguments  I 
could  use  with  her  were  to  no  effect  until  after  I 
had  been  to  the  governor  and  obtained  a  letter  from 
him  to  the  superintendent  of  the  nuns,  in  which  he 
threatened,  if  my  daughter  should  not  be  immediately 
delivered  into  my  hands,  or  could  not  be  prevailed 
with  to  submit  to  my  maternal  authority,  that  he 
would  send  a  band  of  soldiers  to  assist  me  in  bring 
ing  her  away.  Upon  hearing  this,  she  made  no  fur 
ther  resistance  ;  but  so  extremely  bigoted  was  she 
to  the  customs  and  religion  of  the  place,  that,  after 
all,  she  left  it  with  the  greatest  reluctance  and  the 
most  bitter  lamentations,  which  she  continued  as  we 
passed  the  streets,  and  wholly  refused  to  be  com 
forted.  My  good  friend,  Major  Small,  whom  we 
met  with  on  the  way,  tried  all  he  could  to  console 
her,  and  was  so  very  kind  and  obliging  as  to  bear 
us  company,  and  carry  my  daughter  behind  him  on 
horseback. 

But  I  have  run  on  a  little  before  my  story,  for  I 
have  not  yet  informed  you  of  the  means  and  man- 


OF   MRS.   JEMIMA   HOWE.  89 

ner  of  my  own  redemption,  to  the  accomplishing  of 
which,  the  recovery  of  my  daughter,  just  mentioned, 
and  the  ransoming  of  some  of  my  other  children, 
several  gentlemen  of  note  contributed  not  a  little  ; 
to  whose  goodness,  therefore,  I  am  greatly  indebted, 
and  sincerely  hope  I  shall  never  be  so  ungrateful  as 
to  forget.  Colonel  Schuyler,  in  particular,  was  so 
very  kind  and  generous  as  to  advance  two  thousand 
seven  hundred  livres  to  procure  a  ransom  for  myself 
and  three  of  my  children.  He  accompanied  and 
conducted  us  from  Montreal  to  Albany,  and  enter 
tained  us  in  the  most  friendly  and  hospitable  man 
ner  a  considerable  time  at  his  own  house,  and  I 
believe  entirely  at  his  own  expense. 

I  have  spun  out  the  above  narrative  to  a  much 
greater  length  than  I  at  first  intended,  and  shall 
conclude  it  with  referring  you  for  a  more  ample  and 
brilliant  account  of  the  captive  heroine  who  is  the 
subject  of  it  to  Colonel  Humphrey's  History  of  the 
Life  of  General  Israel  Putnam,  together  with  some 
remarks  upon  a  few  clauses  in  it.  I  never  indeed 
had  the  pleasure  of  perusing  the  whole  of  said  his 
tory,  but  remember  to  have  seen,  some  time  ago,  an 
extract  from  it  in  one  of  the  Boston  newspapers,  in 
which  the  colonel  has  extolled  the  beauty,  and  good 
sense,  and  rare  accomplishments  of  Mrs.  Howe,  the 
person  whom  he  endeavors  to  paint  in  the  most 
lively  and  engaging  colors,  perhaps  a  little  too 
highly,  and  in  a  style  that  may  appear  to  those  who 
are  acquainted  with  her  to  this  day  romantic  and 
8* 


90         CAPTIVITY  AND  SUFFERINGS  OF  MRS.  HOWE. 

extravagant ;  and  the  colonel  must  needs  have  been 
misinformed  with  respect  to  some  particulars  that 
he  has  mentioned  in  her  history.  Indeed,  when  I 
read  the  extract  from  his  history  to  Mrs.  Tute, 
(which  name  she  has  derived  from  a  third  husband, 
whose  widow  she  now  remains,)  she  seemed  to  be 
well  pleased,  and  said  at  first  it  was  all  true,  but 
soon  after  contradicted  the  circumstance  of  her 
lover's  being  so  bereft  of  his  senses,  when  he  saw 
her  moving  off  in  a  boat  at  some  distance  from  the 
shore,  as  to  plunge  into  the  water  after  her,  in  con 
sequence  of  which  he  was  seen  no  more.  It  is  true, 
she  said,  that  as  she  was  returning  from  Montreal  to 
Albany,  she  met  with  young  Saccapee  on  the  way  ; 
that  she  was  in  a  boat  with  Colonel  Schuyler  ;  that 
the  French  officer  came  on  board  the  boat,  made  her 
some  handsome  presents,  took  his  final  leave  of  her, 
and  departed,  to  outward  appearance  in  tolerable 
good  humor. 

She  moreover  says  that  when  she  went  to  Canada 
for  her  daughter,  she  met  with  him  again  ;  that  he 
showed  her  a  lock  of  her  hair,  and  her  name,  like 
wise,  printed  with  vermilion  on  his  arm.  As  to  her 
being  chosen  agent  to  go  to  Europe,  in  behalf  of 
the  people  of  Hinsdale,  when  Colonel  Howard  ob 
tained  from  the  government  of  New  York  a  patent 
of  their  lands  on  the  west  side  of  Connecticut  River, 
it  was  never  once  thought  of  by  Hinsdale  people 
until  the  above-mentioned  extract  arrived  among 
them,  in  which  the  author  has  inserted  it  as  a  mat 
ter  of  undoubted  fact. 


HILTON,   OF  FAMOUS  MEMORY. 

ORIGINAL,   C.  C. 

AMONG  the  marvellous  instances  of  courageous 
venture  and  good  fortune  which  are  presented  to 
us  in  the  history  of  the  old  days  of  Indian  warfare, 
nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  the  following, 
which,  while  it  is  unquestionably  true  in  substance, 
has  never,  so  far  as  the  relater  knows,  been  put  in 
print.  It  has  lain  now  fifty  years  in  the  memory 
of  the  relater,  who  received  it  from  men  who  had 
themselves  burned  gunpowder  in  Indian  wars,  and 
who  were  familiar  with  the  stories,  hardships,  and 
sufferings  of  their  own  sires  and  grandsires.  While 
so  many  things  have  been  recorded  of  that  great 
friend,  fighter,  killer,  and  circumventor  of  Indians, 
it  seems  strange  that  the  affair  about  to  be  related 
has  hitherto  escaped  the  attention  of  collectors. 

This  Hilton  had  been  for  many  years  a  particular 
favorite  among  the  red  skins,  having  on  various 
occasions  done  them  good  turns  in  their  quarrels 
with  one  another.  He  had  also,  much  to  their  ad 
vantage,  at  sundry  times,  stood  their  true  friend  in 
the  traffic  carried  on  by  them  with  the  pale  faces. 

(91) 


92  HILTON,   OF  FAMOUS  MEMORY. 

But  circumstances  changed,  and  Indians  and  set 
tlers  changed  with  them.  In  a  time  of  war  it  was 
found  by  the  former  that  all  their  plans  were  antici 
pated  and  frustrated,  and  all  their  stratagems  baf 
fled  by  the  bravery,  sagacity,  and  untiring  activity 
of  their  old  friend  Hilton.  They  therefore  deter 
mined,  though  sorrowfully,  on  capturing  and  killing 
him  at  all  hazards.  The  aged  chief,  who  held  in 
grateful  memory  former  days  of  intimacy,  kindness, 
and  friendship,  with  a  lip  tremulous  in  spite  of  de 
termination,  and  with  an  eye  moistened  in  sorrow, 
though  fixed  and  steady  as  death,  said  aloud,  in 
tones  which  never  yet  had  failed  of  bringing  to  his 
cabin  the  scalps  of  the  slain,  "  It  must  be  done ! 
Hilton,  no  longer  the  red  man's  friend  —  Hilton 
must  die !  Warriors,  ten  of  you,  brave  and  saga 
cious  men,  keen  of  sight  and  fleet  of  foot,  go  to  the 
settlement,  nor  let  me  look  on  your  faces  again  till 
you  show  me  Hilton,  living  or  dead  1  Go,  warriors, 
go ! " 

This  time,  sure  enough,  the  Indians  got  the  start 
of  Hilton.  Passing  the  outposts  unobserved,  and 
eluding  the  vigilance  of  his  videttes,  they  found 
him,  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  settlement,  busily 
and  unconcernedly  engaged  in  hoeing  corn  in  a  field 
not  far  from  the  fort,  while  his  trusty  gun  was  seen 
leaning  against  a  tree  at  some  distance. 

Their  plan  was  laid  at  once,  which  was,  to  pass 
around  through  the  woods  to  a  point  nearest  the 
gun,  secure  that,  and  then  rush  upon  him  and  take 
him  alive.  In  this  they  were  successful ;  being 


HILTON,   OF  FAMOUS  MEMORY.  93 

wholly  unobserved  by  the  lookouts  of  the  garrison 
as  well  as  by  him,  whom  alone  they  wanted  to  see, 
until  the  instant  of  their  laying  hands  on  his  weap 
on,  when,  rising  to  his  full,  great  height  over  a 
corn  hill,  to  which  he  had  been  stooping  for  the 
purpose  of  removing  weeds,  he  beheld  them  ad 
vancing  upon  him.  It  was  a  critical  moment. 

But  Hilton  had  seen  hard  spots  before,  and  had 
survived  ;  and  it  was  his  determination  to  do  so  in 
this  case.  Advancing  towards  them  with  a  quick 
step  and  easy  affability  of  manner,  his  hand  being 
extended  in  familiar  greeting,  "  Oho  !  my  old  friends," 
said  he,  "is  it  you?  I  am  glad  to  see  you  —  in 
deed  I  am  —  and  now  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Will 
you  sit  here  while  I  go  to  the  house  and  bring  you 
out  something  good  to  eat  and  drink  ?  "  "  No,  no ! 
Hilton  go  with  Indians  —  quick,  quick  !  "  said  the 
tawny  savages.  "  With  all  my  heart,"  quoth  he. 
"  Lead  on,  my  good  fellows.  This  is  not  the  first 
time  you  and  I  have  tramped  the  woods  together. 
I  see  how  it  is  —  you  want  me  to  go  and  see  my 
old  friend,  your  great  chief.  It  is  well  ;  I  shall 
rejoice  to  see  him  once  again." 

Thus  glibly  and  unconcernedly  he  talked  as  they 
hurried  along  the  forest  path. 

At  length,  about  six  miles  from  the  fort,  or  gar 
rison,  they  came  to  a  deserted  log  cabin,  where, 
knowing  that  they  had  done  their  work  so  adroitly 
as  to  occasion  no  alarm  in  the  settlement,  they  con 
cluded  to  stop  a  while,  take  some  food,  and  prepare 
themselves  for  a  long  march  in  the  forest. 


94  HILTON,    OF   FAMOUS   MEMORY. 

Completely  deceived  and  put  off  their  guard  by 
the  easy  affability  and  complacent  good  humor  of 
their  captive,  they  carelessly  entered  the  cabin, 
placed  their  guns  in  a  corner  at  one  end,  and  began 
to  busy  themselves,  some  in  preparations  for  cook 
ing,  and  others  in  mending  their  moccasons,  while 
others  still  stretched  themselves  on  a  pile  of  straw 
in  a  distant  corner,  and  went  to  sleep.  Having 
securely  fastened  the  door,  and  observed  that  the 
only  other  place  of  possible  egress  was  an  open 
window  at  the  end  near  their  own  party,  they  gave 
themselves  no  trouble  about  Hilton,  who  walked 
about  sociably  among  them,  chatted  pleasantly,  and 
inquired  about  their  success  in  hunting,  how  many 
children  they  had,  and  what  changes  had  taken 
place  since  he  was  last  among  them.  In  the  same 
easy  way  he  begged  they  would  allow  him  to  gratify 
his  curiosity  with  a  look  at  their  guns,  which  were 
now  all  standing  together  in  a  corner.  To  this 
they  assented  without  hesitation.  "  Fine  shooters, 
these,  my  good  fellows,"  said  he,  as  he  took  up  and 
examined  one  after  another.  "  Glad  to  see  you 
so  well  provided  with  these  kill-deers  ;  and  powder 
and  balls,  too  ;  are  they  plenty  with  you  ?  and  flints, 
good  !  good !  "  And  so  he  ran  on. 

But  the  savages,  poor  doomed  wretches,  did  not 
observe  that  when  he  set  each  gun  down  again  in 
its  place,  he  took  care  to  leave  it  cocked ;  for  he 
had  seen  that  all  were  loaded  and  primed. 

At  length,  all  being  ready  —  the  position  of  each 
man  well  marked  by  an  eye  which  never  faltered  in 


HILTON,  OF   FAMOUS  MEMORY.  95 

moments  of  danger  —  his  fearless  spirit  nerved  to 
unusual  daring,  and  to  the  issue  of  risks  in  which 
a  life  was  to  be  won  by  ten  deaths  —  with  the  stern 
purpose  of  a  man  whose  soul  was  filled  with  the 
certainty  of  one  thing,  namely,  that  either  he  or  ten 
Indians  must  bite  the  dust  —  cool  in  purpose,  but 
quicker  than  lightning  in  action,  he  began.  Bang ! 
bang  !  bang  !  Down  came  a  tall  fellow  —  up  sprang 
another  from  the  straw,  only  to  come  down  again 
with  his  death  wound  ;  here  reeled  one  to  the  wall, 
but  gasped  and  fell  ;  there  sprawled  another,  who 
had  nearly  clutched  our  hero  ;  another  tumbled  into 
the  fire,  on  the  coals  of  which  he  was  broiling  a 
piece  of  meat ;  upon  the  head  of  another,  who  was 
coming  on  too  quick  for  him,  he  dealt  a  levelling 
blow  with  a  gun,  which  had  just  sent  lead  through 
the  heart  of  a  brawny  foe.  And  so  with  unshrink 
ing  purpose,  a  true  eye,  and  a  hand  quicker  than 
the  lightning's  flash,  he  either  killed  or  disabled  all 
but  one.  That  one  plunged  through  the  open  win 
dow,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the  thick  shadows  of  the 
forest.  He,  after  wandering  many  days,  as  was 
afterwards  ascertained,  and  being  near  perishing  by 
hunger,  regained  his  tribe — the  sole  messenger  of 
that  terrible  destruction  which  had  come  down  upon 
his  party  on  the  very  day  of  success. 

As  for  Hilton,  he  did  not  want  for  trophies  of 
his  prowess.  The  reader  needs  not  be  told  what  he 
did  with  the  wounded,  and  may  himself  judge  whether 
the  little  garrison  would  be  willing  to  furnish  hos 
pital  comforts  to  murderous  savages.  The  weapons 


96  HILTON,   OF   FAMOUS   MEMORY. 

of  death  ho  gathered  up,  took  them  on  his  shoulder, 
and  without  losing  a  hair  of  his  head,  marched  in 
triumph  to  meet  his  friends,  who  by  this  time  had 
discovered  that  he  was  missing  from  the  field. 

The  reader  will  please  to  allow  his  imagination 
large  scope,  when  he  thinks  of  the  rejoicings  of 
young  and  old  when  Hilton  told  the  story  of  his 
afternoon's  work. 


INDIAN  FUN. 

ONE  of  the  earliest  settlers  around  Lake  Cham- 
plain  was  COLONEL  EDWARD  RAYMUN.  He  under 
stood  the  character  and  disposition  of  the  natives 
of  the  forest,  and  lived  with  them  in  much  harmony, 
frequently  employing  them  to  row  him  up  and  down 
the  lake,  as  he  had  occasion.  One  stout  fellow,  by 
the  name  of  BIG  BEAR,  had  his  wigwam  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  colonel's  dwelling,  and  was  often 
there.  The  colonel,  having  occasion  to  visit  some 
distant  shore  of  the  lake,  employed  Big  Bear  to 
row  him  in  his  canoe.  On  their  return,  they  passed 
near  a  high  yet  sloping  ledge  of  rocks,  on  which  lay 
an  immense  number  of  rattlesnakes  asleep  and  bask 
ing  in  the  sun.  The  Indian  gave  a  penetrating  look 
at  the  colonel,  and  thus  inquired  :  "  Raymun  love 
fun  ?  "  "  Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  Well,  then,  Ray- 
mun  have  fun  ;  mind  Indian,  and  hold  a  glum."  So 
he  rowed  along,  silent  and  slow,  and  cut  a  crotch 
stick  from  a  bunch  of  hazels  upon  the  bank. 
"Steady,  now,  hold  a  glum,  Raymun/7  said  he,  as 
he  clapped  the  crotch  astride  the  neck  of  a  serpent 
that  was  asleep  close  to  the  edge  of  the  water. 
"  Take  um  now,  Raymun  ;  hold  fass."  The  colonel 
then  took  hold  of  the  stick  keeping  the  serpent 
o  (97) 


98  INDIAN   FUN. 

down,  while  Big  Bear  tied  up  a  little  sack  of  pow 
der,  putting  one  end  of  a  slow  match  therein.  He 
then  made  it  fast  to  the  snake's  tail,  and,  touching 
fire  to  the  match,  gave  orders  to  "  let  um  go,"  at  the 
same  time  pushing  off  from  the  shore ;  the  snake, 
being  liberated,  crawled  away  to  his  den.  The  In 
dian  then  immediately  stood  up,  clapped  his  hands, 
making  as  loud  a  noise  as  possible,  and  thus  roused 
the  serpents,  who  all  in  a  moment  disappeared. 
"  Now  look,  Raymun,  now  look  ;  see  fun,"  said  he  ; 
and  in  about  a  minute  the  powder  exploded,  when 
there  was,  to  be  sure,  fun  alive.  The  snakes,  in 
thousands,  covered  the  rocks,  all  hissing,  rattling, 
twining,  twirling,  and  jumping  every  way  imagina 
ble.  Colonel  Raymun  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  that 
echoed  across  the  lake,  pleased  alike  at  the  success 
of  the  trick  and  the  ingenuity  of  the  savage's  inven 
tion.  But  Big  Bear,  from  the  beginning  to  the  endr 
was  as  grave  as  a  judge,  not  moving  a  muscle,  and 
not  having  the  least  show  of  risibility  in  his  coun 
tenance.  This  is  truly  characteristic  of  the  Amer 
ican  aborigines ;  what  causes  the  excitability  of 
laughter  in  others  has  no  effect  upon  them  ;  they 
may  love  fun,  but  never,  in  the  smallest  degree,  ex 
hibit  that  character  in  their  looks. 


THE  HEADLESS  SPECTRE. 

EXTRACTED  FROM  THE  MANUSCRIPT  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  IRA 
ALLEN,  OF  VERMONT,  NOW  IN  THE  HANDS  OF  HENRY  STE 
PHENS,  ESQ.,  OF  BARNET,  VT.  IRA  ALLEN  WAS  A  BROTHER 
OF  THE  CELEBRATED  COLONEL  ETHAN  ALLEN. 

1770. 

MR.  and  Mrs.  Mclntire  were  from  Scotland,  and 
had  two  daughters  about  twenty-four  years  of  age. 
The  old  lady  and  her  daughters  used  to  amuse  me 
by  telling  many  frightful  stories  respecting  ghosts, 
apparitions,  <fcc.,  appearing  to  people  in  Scotland, 
amongst  which  were  many  stories  respecting  an  old 
woman  appearing  without  a  head.  One  evening  I 
challenged  the  old  woman  without  a  head,  and  all 
the  ghosts,  to  meet  me  at  any  time  and  place  they 
chose.  This  exceedingly  alarmed  my  honest  land 
lady  and  daughters,  arid  they  all  seemed  exceeding 
anxious  for  my  safety,  for  being  so  presumptuous  as 
to  make  such  a  challenge,  and  not  doubting  but  that 
I  should  meet  with  difficulty  the  first  time  I  should 
be  belated  in  the  woods.  The  next  day  I  found  a 
part  of  my  hogs  had  strayed  away  and  become  wild  ; 
with  all  the  art  I  had,  I  could  not  get  them  so  gen 
tle  that  I  could  approach  them  till  near  dark,  at 


100  THE   HEADLESS  SPECTRE. 

which  time  I  was  at  least  three  miles  in  the  wilder 
ness.  There  was  then  a  snow  on  the  ground  about 
four  inches  deep.  I  made  the  best  of  my  way  to 
gain  a  footpath  from  Mr.  Mclntire's  to  a  beaver 
meadow.  In  the  way  I  passed  a  thicket  of  hemlock, 
under  which  it  was  dark.  I  cut  a  staff  about  three 
feet  long,  to  defend  my  eyes  from  limbs  that  might 
come  in  my  face.  In  this  way  I  found  the  footpath. 
In  this  several  loads  of  hay  had  been  carried  from 
the  meadow  to  the  house,  which  had  mixed  the 
leaves  and  snow,  so  that  I  could  discover  the  foot 
path  for  twenty  rods  before  me.  Then,  for  the  first 
time  that  night,  I  thought  of  the  old  woman  with 
out  any  head  ;  at  which  I  had  a  hearty  laugh,  think 
ing  whether  I  should  turn  out  if  she  met  me  in 
that  narrow  path.  I  thought  no  more  of  the  matter 
till  I  had  walked  about  one  mile,  when,  to  my  no 
small  surprise,  at  about  eight  rods'  distance,  I  dis 
covered  in  the  path  the  perfect  appearance  of  a 
woman  without  a  head  ;  her  shoulders,  waist,  arms 
akimbo,  her  hands  on  her  hips,  woman's  clothes,  and 
feet  below  were  in  perfect  shape  before  me ;  all 
which  I  viewed  with  astonishment. 

I  reasoned  to  myself — Is  this  appearance  ficti 
tious  or  real  ?  If  the  God  of  nature  authorizes  appa 
ritions,  then  there  is  no  flying  from  them.  What 
injury  can  they  possibly  do  me  ?  I  have  promised 
faithfully  not  to  flinch  at  any  such  appearance  ;  I 
will  see  it  out.  On  this  determination  I  kicked  the 
snow  away,  that  I  might  know  where  I  made  the 
discovery,  and  advanced  with  my  cane  in  hand  for 


THE  HEADLESS  SPECTRE.  101 

a  blow  as  soon  as  I  arrived  near  enough.  With 
trembling  approaches  I  came  within  about  thirty 
yards,  before  I  discovered  the  cause  of  such  an  ap 
pearance.  The  facts  were,  that  a  tree  had  been 
broken  by  the  wind,  leaving  a  stump,  which  the 
woodcocks  had  pecked  the  bark  from  in  that  shape 
so  long  that  the  wood  had  become  whitish.  The 
bark  of  the  other  part  had  fallen  off.  The  dark 
ness  of  the  night  prevented  me  from  seeing  the 
darker  color,  while  the  bright  snow  shone  from 
the  other  part  of  the  stump,  forming  the  size  and 
figure  of  a  headless  woman.  To  satisfy  myself,  I 
went  back  to  where  I  had  kicked  away  the  snow, 
and  the  old  woman  again  appeared  in  perfect  shape. 
I  occasionally  passed  that  place  afterwards,  but  not 
at  a  time  when  such  an  opportunity  could  be  discov 
ered.  Had  I  been  frightened,  and  run  away,  I  might, 
like  others,  have  believed  in  spectral  appearances. 
9* 


ATTACK    UPON    NUMBER    FOUR. 

(CHARLESTOWN,   N.  H.) 
1747. 

IN  the  latter  end  of  March,  Captain  Phineas  Ste 
vens,  who  commanded  a  ranging  company  of  thirty 
men,  came  to  Number  Four,  the  place  now  called 
Charlestown.  It  had  been  garrisoned  by  the  small 
force  of  six  men  ;  but  even  these  had  deserted  it  in 
the  previous  winter,  and  for  two  months  it  was  en 
tirely  destitute  of  occupants.  Captain  Stevens, 
finding  the  fort  entire,  determined  to  keep  posses 
sion  of  it.  He  had  not  been  there  many  days  when 
he  was  attacked  by  a  very  large  party  of  French 
and  Indians,  commanded  by  M.  Debeline.  The 
dogs,  by  their  barking,  discovered  that  the  enemy 
were  near,  which  caused  the  gate  to  be  kept  shut 
beyond  the  usual  time.  One  man  went  out  to  make 
discovery,  and  was  fired  on,  but  returned  with  a 
slight  wound  only.  The  enemy,  finding  that  they 
were  discovered,  arose  from  their  concealment,  and 
fired  at  the  fort  on  all  sides.  The  wind  being  high, 
they  set  fire  to  the  fences  and  log  houses,  till  the 
fort  was  surrounded  by  flames.  Captain  Stevens 
took  the  most  prudent  measures  for  his  security, 

(102) 


ATTACK  UPON  NUMBER  POUR.  103 

keeping  every  vessel  full  of  water,  and  digging 
trenches  under  the  walls  in  several  places,  so  that 
a  man  might  creep  through  and  extinguish  any  fire 
which  might  catch  on  the  outside  of  the  walls.  The 
fire  of  the  fences  did  not  reach  the  fort,  nor  did  the 
flaming  arrows  which  they  incessantly  shot  against 
it  take  effect  Having  continued  this  mode  of 
attack  for  two  days,  accompanied  with  hideous 
shouts  and  yells,  they  prepared  a  wheel  carriage, 
loaded  with  dry  fagots,  to  be  pushed  before  them, 
that  they  might  set  fire  to  the  fort.  Before  they 
proceeded  to  this  operation,  they  demanded  a  cessa 
tion  of  arms  till  the  sun  rising,  which  was  granted. 
In  the  morning,  Debeline  came  up  with  fifty  men 
and  a  flag  of  truce,  which  he  stuck  in  the  ground. 
He  demanded  a  parley,  which  was  agreed  to.  A 
French  officer,  with  a  soldier  and  aa  Indian,  then 
advanced,  and  proposed  that  the  garrison  should 
bind  up  a  quantity  of  provisions  with  their  blan 
kets,  and,  having  laid  down  their  arms,  should  be 
conducted  prisoners  to  Montreal.  Another  pro 
posal  was,  that  the  two  commanders  should  meet, 
and  that  an  answer  should  then  be  given.  Stevens 
met  the  French  commander,  who,  without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  began  to  enforce  his  proposal  by 
threatening  to  storm  the  fort  and  put  every  man  to 
death,  if  they  should  refuse  his  terms  and  kill  one 
of  his  men.  Stevens  answered  that  he  could  hearken 
to  no  terms  till  the  last  extremity  ;  that  he  was  in 
trusted  with  the  defence  of  the  fort,  and  was  deter- 


104  ATTACK   UPON   NUMBER    POUR. 

mined  to  maintain  it  till  he  should  be  convinced 
that  the  Frenchman  could  perform  what  he  had 
threatened.  He  added  that  it  was  poor  encourage 
ment  to  surrender,  if  they  were  all  to  be  put  to  the 
sword  for  killing  one  man,  when  it  was  probable 
they  had  already  killed  more.  The  Frenchman 
replied,  "  Go  and  see  if  your  men  dare  to  fight  any 
longer,  and  give  me  a  quick  answer."  Stevens 
returned  and  asked  his  men  whether  they  would 
fight  or  surrender.  They  unanimously  determined 
to  fight.  This  was  immediately  made  known  to  the 
enemy,  who  renewed  their  shouting  and  firing  all 
that  day  and  night.  On  the  morning  of  the  third 
day  they  requested  another  cessation  for  two  hours. 
Two  Indians  came  with  a  flag,  and  proposed  that  if 
Stevens  would  sell  them  provisions,  they  would  with 
draw.  He  answered  that  to  sell  them  provisions 
for  money  was  contrary  to  the  law  of  nations  ;  but 
that  he  would  pay  them  five  bushels  of  corn  for 
every  captive  for  whom  they  would  give  a  hostage, 
till  the  captive  could  be  brought  from  Canada. 
After  this  answer  a  few  guns  were  fired,  and  the 
enemy  were  seen  no  more. 

In  this  furious  attack  from  a  starving  enemy,  no 
lives  were  lost  in  the  fort,  and  two  men  only  were 
wounded.  No  men  could  have  behaved  with  more 
intrepidity  in  the  midst  of  such  threatening  danger. 
An  express  was  immediately  despatched  to  Boston, 
and  the  news  was  there  received  with  great  joy. 
Commodore  Sir  Charles  Knowles  was  so  highly 


ATTACK   UPON    NUMBER    FOUR.  105 

pleased  with  the  conduct  of  Captain  Stevens  that 
he  presented  him  with  a  valuable  and  elegant  sword, 
as  a  reward  for  his  bravery.  From  this  circum 
stance  the  township,  when  it  was  incorporated,  took 
the  name  of  Charlestown. 


THE   INDIANS  AT  WAR:    THEIR  USAGES 
AND    CUSTOMS. 

FROM  THE  "NATURAL  AND  CIVIL  HISTORY  OF  VERMONT,"  BY 

SAMUEL  WILLIAMS,  LL.  D. 

THE  civil  regulations  of  the  savages  were  all  de 
signed  to  qualify  and  prepare  them  for  war.  Among 
the  causes  that  led  to  this,  an  opposition  of  interests 
was  the  most  common  and  powerful.  No  people 
ever  had  more  clear  or  more  just  ideas  of  their  own 
rights  and  property  than  the  Indians.  They  not 
only  understood  their  own  personal  rights,  but  they 
were  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  the  rights  and 
property  that  were  vested  in  the  tribe.  Each  tribe 
claimed  the  soil  in  their  own  domains.  This  right 
was  viewed  as  complete,  perfect,  and  exclusive  — 
such  as  entitled  them  to  the  full  and  entire  posses 
sion,  and  to  oppose  by  force  and  violence  all  en 
croachments  upon  the  soil  or  game  in  any  part  of 
their  territories.  The  bounds  of  these  territories 
were  extensive  and  ill  denned.  Real  or  supposed 
encroachments  and  injuries  were  constantly  taking 
place.  Hence  arose  innumerable  subjects  of  dis 
pute  and  controversy,  which  easily  inflamed  the 
fierceness  of  the  savage  temper,  and  brought  on 
mutual  injuries,  reproaches,  hostilities,  and  war.  In 

(106) 


THE   INDIANS  AT  WAR.  107 

this  state  most  of  the  Indian  tribes  were  found. 
Interest  had  become  a  source  of  discord  among  the 
neighboring  tribes.  From  this  cause  arose  most  of 
their  inveterate  and  perpetual  wars. 

The  manner  in  which  the  Indians  carry  on  their 
wars  is  very  different  from  that  of  civilized  nations. 
To  defend  themselves  against  an  enemy  they  have 
no  other  fortification  but  an  irregular  kind  of  for 
tress,  which  they  call  a  castle  or  fort.  It  consisted 
of  a  square,  without  bastions,  surrounded  with  pali 
sades.  This  was  erected  where  the  most  consider 
able  number  of  the  tribe  resided,  and  was  designed 
as  an  asylum  for  their  old  men,  their  women  and 
children,  while  the  rest  of  the  tribe  were  gone  out 
to  war.  The  weapons  of  the  Indian  were  a  club 
made  of  hard  wood,  a  bow  and  arrow.  Thus  armed, 
the  Indian  takes  with  him  a  small  bag  of  corn,  and 
is  completely  equipped  for  a  campaign.  When  he 
takes  the  field,  it  is  with  such  a  number  of  warriors 
as  the  tribe  can  supply.  During  their  march  they 
are  dispersed  in  straggling  companies,  that  they  may 
better  supply  themselves  by  hunting.  When  they 
approach  near  to  the  enemies'  frontiers,  their  troops 
are  more  collected  ;  all  is  then  caution,  stratagem, 
secrecy,  and  ambuscade.  Their  employment  as 
hunters  has  taught  them  great  address  and  vigilance 
in  following  and  surprising  the  game.  Their  mode 
of  war  is  the  same  as  that  of  hunting.  With  great 
ingenuity  they  will  find  and  follow  the  track  of 
their  enemies  ;  with  a  surprising  patience  and  per 
severance  they  will  wait  for  the  moment  when  they 


108  THE   INDIANS  AT  WAR. 

find  him  the  least  able  to  defend  himself ;  and  when 
they  can  find  an  enemy  unprepared,  they  make  their 
attack  with  great  fury  and  with  pretty  sure  success. 
In  their  battles  they  always  endeavor  to  secure 
themselves  behind  the  trees  or  rocks,  and  never 
meet  their  enemy  in  the  open  field,  or  upon  equal 
terms,  if  they  can  avoid  it.  The  method  of  the 
Europeans,  of  deciding  a  battle  in  the  open  field, 
they  regard  as  extreme  folly  and  want  of  prudence. 
Their  established  maxims  are,  to  obtain  a  superior 
ity  in  situation,  numbers,  concealment,  or  some  other 
circumstance,  before  the  battle  ;  in  this  way  to  pre 
serve  the  lives  of  their  own  party,  and  destroy  their 
enemies,  with  as  little  loss  as  possible  to  themselves. 
A  victory  obtained  with  the  loss  of  many  of  their 
own  party  is  a  matter  of  grief  and  disgrace,  rather 
than  of  exultation  ;  and  it  is  no  honor  to  fall  in  the 
field  of  battle,  but  viewed  rather  as  an  evidence  of 
a  want  of  wisdom,  discernment,  and  circumspection. 
When  the  attack  is  to  be  made,  nothing  can  exceed 
the  courage  and  impetuosity  of  the  savage.  The 
onset  begins  with  a  general  outcry,  terminating  in  a 
universal  yell.  Of  all  the  sounds  that  discord  has 
produced,  the  Indian  war  whoop  is  the  most  awful 
and  horrid.  It  is  designed  and  adapted  to  increase 
the  ardor  of  those  who  make  the  attack,  and  to 
carry  terror  and  horror  into  the  feelings  of  those 
on  whom  the  attack  is  made.  The  Indians  immedi 
ately  come  forward,  and  begin  the  scene  of  outrage 
and  death.  All  is  then  a  scene  of  fury,  impetuosity, 
and  vengeance.  So  great  is  the  rage  of  the  savage, 


THEIR   USAGES  AND    CUSTOMS.  109 

that  he  has  no  regard  to  discipline,  subordination, 
and  order.  Kevenge  takes  an  entire  possession  of 
his  soul ;  forgetful  of  all  order,  regardless  of  disci 
pline  and  danger,  he  aims  only  to  butcher  and  de 
stroy.  If  the  Indians  remain  masters  of  the  field, 
they  always  strip  and  scalp  the  dead.  Leaving  the 
bodies  of  their  enemies  naked,  unburied,  and  often 
mangled,  they  carry  off  the  plunder  and  scalps,  and 
make  a  very  swift  and  sudden  retreat.  Upon  their 
approach  to  their  own  tribe,  a  herald  is  sent  for 
ward  to  announce  the  event ;  the  tribe  is  collected, 
and  the  conquerors  make  their  entry  with  their  en 
signs  of  triumph ;  the  scalps,  stretched  upon  a  bow, 
and  elevated  upon  a  pole,  are  carried  before  them, 
as  the  tokens  of  their  valor  and  success,  and  monu 
ments  of  the  vengeance  they  have  inflicted  upon  the 
enemies  of  their  country. 

The  prisoners  which  they  have  taken  make  an 
important  part  of  their  triumph.  The  savages  are 
anxious  to  take  as  many  of  these  as  possible.  Dur 
ing  their  march,  they  are  generally  treated  with  a 
degree  of  humanity  and  kindness  ;  but  the  greatest 
care  is  taken  to  prevent  their  escape.  When  they 
arrive  at  the  place  of  their  destination,  the  old  men, 
women,  and  children  of  the  Indian  tribe  form  them 
selves  into  two  lines,  through  which  the  prisoners 
must  run  the  gantlet  to  the  village.  If  the  prisoner 
is  young,  active,  and  a  good  runner,  he  makes  his 
way  through  the  lines  without  receiving  much  injury. 
If  he  is  weak,  old,  and  infirm,  he  receives  much  dam 
age  by  the  blows,  stripes,  and  bruises  laid  upon  him. 
10 


110  THE   INDIANS  AT   WAR: 

When  this  scene  is  finished,  the  prisoners  are  eon- 
ducted  to  the  village,  treated  with  apparent  good 
humor,  and  fed  as  well  as  the  Indians'  fare  admits. 

To  the  village  thus  assembled  the  head  warrior 
of  the  party  relates  every  particular  of  the  expedi 
tion.  When  he  mentions  their  losses,  a  bitter  grief 
and  sorrow  appears  in  the  whole  assembly.  When 
he  pronounces  the  names  of  the  dead,  their  wives, 
relations,  and  friends  put  forth  the  most  bitter 
shrieks  and  cries.  But  no  one  asks  any  question,  or 
interrupts  the  speaker  with  any  inquiry.  The  last 
ceremony  is  to  proclaim  the  victory.  Every  indi 
vidual  forgets  his  own  loss  and  misfortune,  and  joins 
in  the  triumph  of  his  nation.  Their  tears  cease,  and 
with  one  of  the  most  unaccountable  transitions  in 
human  nature,  they  pass  at  once  from  the  bitterness 
of  sorrow  to  all  the  extravagance  of  joy.  The 
whole  concludes  with  a  savage  feast,  songs,  and 
dance. 

The  fate  of  the  prisoners  is  next  to  be  decided. 
The  elders  and  chiefs  assemble  and  deliberate  con 
cerning  their  destiny.  The  women  and  children  are 
disposed  of  according  to  the  pleasure  of  their  cap 
tors  ;  but  they  are  seldom  or  never  put  to  torture 
or  death.  Of  the  men,  some  are  appointed  to  sup 
ply  the  places  of  such  Indians  as  have  fallen  in 
battle.  These  are  delivered  to  their  friends  and 
relations,  and  if  they  are  received  by  them,  they 
have  no  sufferings  to  fear  ;  they  are  adopted  into 
the  family,  and  succeed  to  all  the  privileges  of  the 
deceased,  and  are  esteemed  as  friends,  brothers,  and 


THEIR   USAGES  AND    CUSTOMS.  Ill 

near  relations.  But  if  they  are  not  received  and 
admitted  into  the  family,  or  if  they  are  destined  to 
be  put  to  death,  a  most  distressing  and  horrid  scene 
ensues. 

A  stake  is  fixed  firmly  in  the  ground  ;  at  the  dis 
tance  of  eight  or  ten  feet,  dry  wood,  leaves,  and 
fagots  are  placed  in  a  circle  round  the  stake,  and 
the  whole  village  is  collected,  to  bear  their  part  in 
the  tragedy  which  is  to  ensue.  The  prisoner  is  led 
to  the  stake,  and  tied  to  it  by  his  hands,  in  such  a 
manner  that  he  may  move  freely  round  it.  Fire  is 
set  to  the  wood,  that,  as  it  runs  round  the  circle, 
the  unhappy  victim  may  be  forced  to  run  the  same 
way.  As  the  sufferings  of  the  prisoner  begin  to 
become  severe,  the  acclamations  of  the  spectators 
commence.  The  men,  women,  and  children  strive 
to  exceed  each  other  in  finding  out  new  and  keener 
methods  of  torment.  Some  apply  red  hot  irons, 
others  stab  and  cut  with  their  knives,  others  mangle 
and  tear  off  the  flesh  ;  others  again  bite  off  the 
nails  and  joints,  or  twist  and  tear  the  sinews.  Every 
species  and  degree  of  cruelty  that  savage  rancor 
and  revenge  can  invent  and  apply  is  tried  upon  the 
wretched  sufferer  j  but  great  care  is  taken  that)  the 
vital  parts  may  not  be  so  injured  as  to  bring  the 
torments  of  the  victim  to  a  speedy  end.  In  this 
horrid  situation,  the  sufferer  is  undaunted  and  in 
trepid.  He  reviles  and  insults  his  tormentors.  He 
accuses  them  of  cowardice,  meanness,  and  want  of 
spirit ;  as  ignorant,  unskilful,  and  destitute  of  inge 
nuity  and  invention  in  the  art  of  tormenting.  Not 


112  THE  INDIANS  AT  WAR  : 

a  groan,  a  sigh,  a  tear,  or  a  sorrowful  look,  is  suf 
fered  to  escape  him.  To  insult  his  tormentors,  to 
display  undaunted  and  unalterable  fortitude  in  this 
dreadful  situation,  is  the  most  noble  of  all  the  tri 
umphs  of  the  warrior.  With  an  unaltered  counte 
nance,  and  with  the  decisive  tone  of  dignity  and 
superior  importance,  the  hero  proceeds  with  great 
calmness  to  sing  the  song  of  his  death  :  — 

"  Intrepid  and  brave,  I  feel  ho  pain  and  I  fear  no 
torture.  I  have  slain,  I  have  conquered,  I  have 
burnt  mine  enemies,  and  my  countrymen  will  avenge 
my  blood.  Ye  are  a  nation  of  dogs,  of  cowards, 
and  women.  Ye  know  not  how  to  conquer,  to  suf 
fer,  or  to  torture.  Prolong  and  increase  my  tor 
ments,  that  ye  may  learn  from  my  example  how  to 
suffer  and  behave  like  men." 

With  such  unconquerable  magnanimity  and  forti 
tude  the  sufferer  perseveres,  under  every  method  of 
torment  and  torture.  Wearied  with  cruelty,  and 
tired  with  tormenting  a  man  whose  fortitude  they 
cannot  move,  one  of  the  chiefs,  in  a  rage,  concludes 
the  scene  by  knocking  the  prisoner  on  the  head,  or 
stabbing  him  to  the  heart. 

These  scenes,  however,  were  not  common.  They 
seem  to  have  been  a  kind  of  honor  reserved  for  the 
warriors,  and  were  the  trials  of  their  courage  and 
fortitude  ;  and  nothing  was  esteemed  more  base  and 
ignominious  than  to  shrink  from  them,  or  to  show 
any  sense  of  fear  or  pain  under  them. 

When  the  prisoners  were  adopted  into  the  tribe 
of  the  conquerors,  nothing  could  exceed  the  kind- 


THEIR    USAGES   AND    CUSTOMS.  113 

ness  and  affection  with  which  they  were  treated. 
All  distinction  of  tribes  was  forgotten  ;  they  held 
the  same  rank  as  the  deceased  person  whose  place 
they  filled,  and  were  treated  with  all  the  tenderness 
due  to  the  husband,  the  brother,  the  child,  or  friend  ; 
and  it  was  generally  the  case  that  the  savages  avoid 
ed  abuse  and  cruelty  to  the  women  and  children  that 
fell  into  their  hands. 

The  Indian  method  of  carrying  on  a  war  was  so 
contrary  to  the  maxims  and  customs  of  all  civilized 
nations,  that  some  of  the  European  writers,  judging 
from  their  own  customs,  have  concluded  it  was 
founded  on  cowardice,  and  arose  from  an  ignoble 
and  timid  spirit,  afraid  to  meet  its  opposers  on  equal 
ground,  and  depending  wholly  on  craft,  and  not  at 
all  on  courage  and  firmness  of  mind.  No  conclu 
sion  was  ever  farther  from  the  truth.  When  placed 
in  a  critical  and  dangerous  situation,  no  people  ever 
discovered  more  valor,  firmness,  and  intrepidity. 
When  subdued,  an  Indian  was  never  known  to  ask 
for  his  life.  When  compelled  to  suffer,  the  Indian 
bore  it  with  a  steadiness,  a  fortitude,  and  a  magna 
nimity  unknown  to  all  other  nations,  and  of  which 
there  are  no  examples  in  the  history  of  war.  His 
method  of  war  did  not  arise  from  a  sense  and  fear 
of  danger  ;  he  was  well  acquainted,  and  always  in 
the  midst  of  this ;  but  it  arose  from  his  situation 
and  employment,  and  was  perfectly  well  adapted  to 
it.  From  his  situation  and  employment  as  a  hunter, 
he  acquired  the  art  of  ambuscade  and  surprise  ;  and 
the  method  with  which  he  could  best  succeed  in 


114  THE  INDIANS  AT  WAR  : 

taking  his  game  he  found  to  be  the  most  successful 
to  insnare  and  overcome  his  enemy.  The  situation 
and  state  of  the  country,  overspread  with  thick  for 
ests,  led  to  the  same  method.  The  situation  of  the 
tribe,  scattered  and  dispersed  in  the  woods,  sug 
gested  the  same  idea.  The  method  of  fighting 
could  not  be  in  the  open  fields,  but  among  the  trees  ; 
and  he  wisely  placed  the  point  of  honor  in  the  pub 
lic  good,  where  the  prospect  and  probability  of  his 
success  lay.  Had  the  honor  of  the  Indian  warrior 
been  placed  in  courting  fame  and  victory  in  the 
open  field,  the  whole  tribe  would  have  been  de 
stroyed  by  the  effusion  of  blood  that  must  have 
succeeded.  His  maxims,  therefore,  were  better 
chosen,  and  they  were  such  as  every  circumstance  in 
his  situation  and  employment  naturally  led  him  to  ; 
not  in  a  useless  ostentation  of  daring  courage  and 
boldness,  but  in  the  public  utility  and  advantage. 
So  far  as  an  enterprise  depended  on  secrecy,  subtle 
ty,  surprise,  and  impetuosity,  the  Indian  method  of 
war  seems  to  have  been  fully  equal  to  the  European. 
The  Spaniards,  the  French,  the  English,  and  the 
States  of  America  have  had  many  and  painful  proofs 
of  their  address  and  prowess  in  this  method.  But 
when  a  fort  was  erected,  or  a  small  fortification  to 
be  carried,  the  Indian  method  of  war  wholly  failed. 
Neither  their  arms,  their  arts,  nor  their  customs 
were  of  any  avail  here.  Wholly  unacquainted  with 
the  art  of  fortification,  they  could  neither  erect  nor 
take  a  fort  of  any  strength.  When  the  Europeans 
had  once  got  possession  of  any  part  of  their  coun- 


THEIE  USAGES  AND   CUSTOMS.  115 

try,  and  erected  a  small  fortification  in  their  terri 
tories,  they  held  it  by  a  sure  possession.  The  sav 
ages  were  wholly  unable  to  dispossess  them  by  their 
method  of  war,  and  nothing  was  left  for  them  but 
to  retreat  farther  into  the  forests.  In  this  way  the 
English  and  French  were  making  constant  advances 
into  their  country ;  and  their  art  of  war  afforded 
them  no  sufficient  means  either  to  prevent  or  to 
redress  it.  But  when  the  Europeans  followed  them 
into  the  woods,  where  their  strength  and  art  might 
be  employed  to  advantage,  the  Indians  generally 
surprised  and  defeated  their  armies,  with  great 
havoc  and  slaughter. 


A  WITCH  STORY   OF   OLDEN  TIME. 

ORIGINAL.      A.  C. 

IT  is  sometimes  curious  to  recall  to  mind  stories 
which  were  believed  and  currently  reported  a  hun 
dred  and  more  years  ago  by  the  sturdy  founders  of 
our  nation,  who,  though  men  fit  to  grapple  with  all 
earthly  dangers,  to  fight  the  bloody  Indians,  or  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  forest,  were,  notwithstanding, 
affected  with  many  little  weaknesses.  Among  these 
may  be  mentioned  particularly  a  fear  of  the  super 
natural,  to  which  agency  they  ascribed  every  strange 
or  unusual  occurrence. 

The  following  incident  was  related  to  the  writer 
by  a  descendant  of  the  principal  actor  in  the  affair. 

About  the  year  1740,  a  certain  man  by  the  name 
of  Jones  built  a  house  for  himself  and  family  in  a 
clearing  he  had  cultivated  in  the  middle  of  the  State 
of  New  Hampshire.  The  family  having  moved  into 
the  house,  a  single  week  sufficed  to  prove  that  the 
house  was  haunted.  Strange  noises  were  heard 
throughout  the  house,  and  whenever  any  one  dared 
to  open  his  eyes  at  the  "  still  and  witching  hour  of 
midnight,"  startling  and  inexplicable  sights  were 
seen.  The  family  naturally  became  much  alarmed, 
and  dared  not  remain  longer  in  the  house.  These 

(116) 


A  WITCH  STORY  OF   OLDEN  TIME.  117 

facts,  being  noised  abroad,  excited  a  great  deal  of 
remark  and  wonderment.  Some  proposed  to  have 
the  spirits  exorcised  ;  but  a  man  named  Turner 
finally  offered  his  services  to  quell  the  disturbance, 
and  clear  the  house  of  its  ghastly  visitants.  He 
declared  that  he  cared  for  nothing  earthly  or  un 
earthly  ;  so,  both  for  the  purpose  of  proving  his 
bravery  and  of  ascertaining  the  cause  of  the  dis 
turbance,  it  was  determined  that  he  should  sleep  in 
the  house,  and  see  the  matter  through. 

The  family  of  Mr.  Jones  departed  on  a  visit  to 
their  friends,  and  in  came  Turner  to  sleep  as  agreed. 
The  house  was  of  one  story,  consisting  of  a  kitchen, 
sitting  room,  and  bed  room  on  the  ground  floor,  and 
an  unfurnished  loft  above,  reached  by  a  ladder.  On 
the  night  in  question,  Turner,  having  replenished 
the  fire  in  the  enormous  fireplace  —  one  of  those 
comfortable  fireplaces  which  an  old-fashioned  kitchen 
always  contained,  and  which  occupied  nearly  the 
whole  of  one  side  of  the  room  —  Turner,  I  say, 
having  rolled  on  some  logs,  sat  a  while  in  the  chim 
ney  corner,  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees,  as  he 
gazed  at  the  burning  brands.  Tongues  of  flame 
leaped  from  the  smoking  logs,  and  whirled  away  up 
the  chimney  ;  and  their  roaring,  as  they  disap 
peared,  seemed  changed  to  unearthly  tones  —  now 
soft  and  musical,  now  hoarse  and  low,  like  distant 
thunder.  The  roaring  of  the  wind  among  the  pines 
near  by  mingled  with  that  of  the  fire,  and  increased 
the  excitement  of  Turner's  imagination.  Strange 
shapes  appeared  to  rise  from  the  flames,  and  nod 


118  A  WITCH   STORY   OF   OLDEN   TIME. 

and  brandish  their  arms  around,  then  sink,  only  to 
be  succeeded  by  others  still  more  fearful.  The  fit 
ful  gleams  cast  a  ghastly  light  over  the  remoter 
parts  of  the  room.  The  shadows  on  the  wall  joined 
hands,  and  moved  around  in  solemn  silence. 

Turner  sat  in  his  lonely  revery  until  the  sticks  he 
had  thrown  upon  the  fire  were  nearly  consumed,  and 
the  flames  were  just  dying  away  ;  then,  rousing  up, 
he  bethought  himself  of  his  old  reputation  for  cour 
age.  Rather  than  be  exposed  to  the  sneers  of  his 
neighbors,  he  was  ready  to  meet  ten  thousand  ghosts. 
He  threw  on  some  fresh  fuel,  and  went  to  bed. 

The  bedroom  opened  immediately  out  of  the 
kitchen,  where  he  had  been  sitting.  Leaving  the 
door  open,  he  lay  down  to  sleep,  and  remained  undis 
turbed  till  about  midnight,  when  a  slight  noise  caused 
him  to  open  his  eyes.  Looking  through  the  open 
door  into  the  kitchen,  he  beheld,  with  momentary 
horror,  a  cat  sitting  on  the  hearth  and  gazing  dire 
ful  ly  at  him  with  eyes  like  two  balls  of  fire,  as  large 
as  a  man's  fist.  Turner  was  really  a  brave  man. 
He  quickly  expelled  from  his  bosom  the  first  trace 
of  terror,  and  prepared  as  quickly  to  expel  his  un 
welcome  guest. 

Creeping  carefully  from  the  bed  to  the  fireplace, 
—  the  cat  turning  all  the  while  so  as  to  face  him,  — 
he  snatched  a  huge  fire  shovel,  with  a  handle  four 
feet  in  length,  and  aiming  a  blow  at  the  horrid  beast 
before  him,  struck  it  with  force  sufficient  to  kill  any 
thing  of  earthly  mould.  Strange  to  say,  however, 
the  shovel  rebounded  from  the  cat  in  a  wonderful 


A   WITCH  STORY   OP  OLDEN  TIME.  119 

manner,  almost  flying  from  Turner's  hands.  It  was 
like  beating  a  large  mass  of  India  rubber.  Noth 
ing  daunted,  he  laid  on  still  harder,  until  by  dint 
of  oft-repeated  blows  the  monster  was  pushed  near 
the  outer  door,  when  one  more  tremendous  stroke 
sent  the  animal  straight  through  the  middle  of  the 
oaken  planks,  which  closed  up  as  before.  Turner 
instantly  sprang  to  the  latch  and  opened  the  door  ; 
but,  wonderful  to  relate,  nothing  was  in  sight.  He 
looked  to  the  right  and  he  looked  to  the  left ;  but 
nothing  could  be  seen  or  heard  save  the  tall  pine 
trees  waving  and  roaring  in  the  stormy  blast. 

Going  to  the  barn  before  breakfast,  to  attend  to 
the  stock  of  the  farm,  he  was  surprised  to  find  that 
a  promising  calf  was  missing.  The  barn  was  con 
structed  tight  and  secure,  and  all  the  doors  were 
closed.  No  mode  of  egress  could  be  discovered. 
However,  as  a  forlorn  hope,  he  searched  the  pasture 
near  by,  where  he  soon  heard  the  faint  bleating  of  a 
calf.  He  followed  the  sound,  and  was  led  to  a  log, 
to  all  appearance  sound  and  solid.  This  puzzled  him ; 
but  he  quickly  brought  an  axe  and  wedges,  and  with 
their  aid  the  log  was  forced  to  reveal  its  secrets. 
The  calf  was  found  nicely  packed  in  a  cavity  the 
size  of  its  body.  Out  it  jumped,  glad  to  be  released 
from  captivity.  On  a  minute  examination,  Turner 
discovered  a  knot  hole  in  the  side  of  the  barn,  lined 
with  hair,  through  which  it  was  evident  to  all  the 
neighbors  —  who  came  in  crowds  to  examine  the 
place  —  that  the  animal  was  drawn.  We  may  remark 


120  A   WITCH   STORY   OP   OLDEN  TIME. 

that  the  unfortunate  calf  never  thrived,  afterwards, 
but  died  soon  after,  in  great  pain. 

But  we  have  not  finished  our  story  yet.  In  the 
course  of  the  forenoon,  having  occasion  to  go  to 
mill,  about  five  miles  distant,  Turner  set  off  with 
horse  and  sleigh.  When  he  had  passed  about  half 
this  distance,  he  reached  the  house  of  a  neighbor, 
whom  he  saw  standing  in  the  door.  The  man  begged 
Turner  to  step  in  and  see  his  grandmother,  who,  he 
said,  was  taken  suddenly  ill  in  the  night.  On  going 
in,  what  was  his  amazement  to  find  the  old  lady 
black  and  blue  from  head  to  foot,  as  if  severely 
bruised  in  some  unusual  manner. 

The  mystery  was  here  solved.  No  doubt  the  old 
woman  was  the  witch  who  abstracted  the  calf,  and 
shut  it  up  by  her  wonderful  art  in  the  log.  No 
doubt  it  was  she  also  who,  in  the  form  of  a  cat,  dis 
turbed  the  house  of  Mr.  Jones,  and  was  driven  out 
by  Turner  with  such  vigor. 

The  old  woman  died  the  same  day.  After  this 
night  we  may  conclude  nothing  ever  again  disturbed 
the  haunted  house. 


BAKER'S   RETREAT. 

FROM    THE    REV.    GRANT   POWERS'S    "HISTORY    OF    THE   COOS 
COUNTRY." 

MUCH  discussion  has  arisen  at  different  times  in  the 
county  of  Coos,  N.  EL,  in  relation  to  the  origin  of  the 
name  of  Baker's  River.  It  was  called  by  that  name 
when  the  first  settlers  came  on,  and  it  was  called  so 
in  the  journal  of  Captain  Powers,  in  1754.  The 
following  tradition,  which  has  come  down  from  the 
earliest  settlement,  seems  fully  to  explain  the  source 
from  which  the  name  was  derived. 

It  is  said  that  while  Massachusetts  was  claiming 
the  province  of  New  Hampshire,  prior  to  the  old 
French  war,  Massachusetts  sent  a  Captain  Baker, 
from  old  Newbury,  at  the  head  of  a  company,  to 
ferret  out  the  Indians,  who  had  their  encampment 
somewhere  upon  the  waters  of  the  Pemigewasset. 
Baker  procured  a  friendly  Indian,  who  led  them  to 
Plymouth,  in  New  Hampshire.  When  Baker  and  his 
party  had  arrived  on  these  meadows,  the  friendly 
Indian  signified  it  was  now  time  for  every  man  to 
gird  up  his  loins  ;  and  they  did  so,  moving  forward 
with  all  possible  circumspection.  When  they  had 
reached  the  south  bank  of  Baker's  River,  near  its 

11  (121) 


122 

junction  with  the  Pemigewasset,  they  discovered  the 
Indians  on  the  north  bank  of  Baker's  River,  sport 
ing  in  great  numbers,  secure,  as  they  supposed,  from 
the  muskets  of  all  "  pale  faces."  Baker  and  his  men 
chose  their  position,  and  opened  a  tremendous  fire 
upon  the  Indians,  which  was  as  sudden  to  them  as  a 
clap  of  thunder.  Many  of  the  sons  of  the  forest 
fell  in  death  in  the  midst  of  their  sports.  But  the 
living  disappeared  in  an  instant,  and  ran  to  call  in 
their  hunters.  Baker  and  his  men  lost  no  time  in 
crossing  the  river  in  search  of  booty.  They  found 
a  rich  store  of  furs  deposited  in  holes  dug  into  the 
bank  of  the  river  horizontally,  in  the  manner  bank 
swallows  make  their  holes.  Having  destroyed  their 
wigwams  and  captured  their  furs,  Baker  ordered  a 
retreat,  fearing  that  they  would  soon  return  in  too 
great  force  to  be  resisted  by  his  single  company. 
And  the  Indians  were  fully  up  to  his  apprehensions  ; 
for,  notwithstanding  Baker  retreated  with  all  expe 
dition,  the  Indians  collected,  and  were  up  with  them 
when  they  had  reached  a  poplar  plain  in  Bridge- 
water,  a  little  south  of  Walter  Webster's  tavern. 
A  smart  skirmish  ensued,  but  the  Indians  were  re 
pulsed  with  loss.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  friendly 
Indian  advised  Baker  and  his  men  to  use  all  dili 
gence  in  their  retreat ;  for  he  said  their  number 
would  increase  every  hour,  and  that  they  would 
return  to  the  attack. 

Accordingly  Baker  pressed  on  the  retreat  with 
all  possible  despatch,  and  did  not  allow  his  men  to 
take  refreshment  after  the  battle.  But  when  they 


BAKER'S  RETREAT.  123 

came  into  New  Chester,  having  crossed  a  stream, 
his  men  were  exhausted,  through  abstinence,  forced 
marches,  and  hard  fighting  ;  and  they  resolved  they 
could  go  no  farther  without  food,  saying  to  their 
commander  they  "  might  as  well  fall  by  the  toma 
hawk  as  by  famine."  The  captain  acquiesced,  and 
they  prepared  to  refresh  themselves ;  but  here  was 
a  call  for  Indian  stratagem.  The  friendly  Indian 
told  every  man  to  build  as  many  fires  as  he  could  in 
a  given  time  ;  for  the  Indians,  if  they  pursued  them, 
would  judge  of  their  numbers  by  the  number  of 
their  fires.  He  told  them,  also,  that  each  man  should 
make  him  four  or  five  crotched  sticks,  and  use  them 
all  in  roasting  a  single  piece  of  pork ;  then  leave 
an  equal  number  of  wooden  forks  around  each 
fire,  and  the  Indians  would  infer,  if  they  came  up, 
that  there  were  as  many  of  the  English  as  there 
were  forks,  and  this  might  turn  them  back.  The 
Indian's  counsel  was  followed  to  the  letter,  and  the 
company  moved  on  with  fresh  speed.  The  Indians, 
however,  came  up  while  their  fires  were  yet  burn 
ing,  and,  counting  the  fires  and  forks,  the  warriors 
whooped  a  retreat,  for  they  were  alarmed  at  the 
number  of  the  English.  Baker  and  his  men  were 
no  longer  annoyed  by  those  troublesome  attendants  ; 
and  he  attributed  their  preservation  to  the  counsel 
of  the  friendly  Indian. 


DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  INDIAN  VILLAGE 
OF   ST.  FRANCIS. 

FROM  WILLIAMS'S  HISTORY  OF  VERMONT. 
1759. 

IN  the  year  1759  it  was  thought  best  to  make  the 
enemy  feel  the  force  and  resentment  of  the  English 
colonies.  The  Indians  had  not  as  yet  discontinued 
their  attempts  to  disturb  and  distress  the  frontiers. 
Among  these  tribes,  none  had  been  more  bloody  and 
cruel  than  that  of  St.  Francis.  Their  village  was 
situated  on  the  south  side  of  the  River  St.  Law 
rence,  not  far  from  Trois  Rivieres.  So  early  as  the 
year  1703,  the  Governor  of  Canada  had  drawn  off 
a  large  number  of  Indians  from  Penobscot,  Nor- 
ridgewock,  Saco,  Pigwacket,  and  other  parts  of  the 
eastern  country,  and  settled  them  at  Begancour  and 
St.  Francis.  By  uniting  them  with  the  Indians  of 
Canada,  he  meant  to  procure  a  force  sufficient  to 
protect  their  own  frontiers,  and  to  have  always  in 
reserve  a  body  of  savages  well  acquainted  with  the 
English  frontiers,  and  the  most  favorable  times  and 
places  of  carrying  desolation  among  them.  The 
event  justified  his  expectations.  From  none  of  the 

(124) 


DESTRUCTION   OF  THE  VILLAGE   OF  ST.  FRANCIS.   125 

Indian  tribes  had  the  provinces  of  New  Hampshire 
and  Massachusetts  suffered  so  much  as  from  the  sav 
ages  of  this  village  and  tribe.  They  made  their 
incursions  through  the  River  St.  Francis  to  Lake 
Memphremagog,  and  from  thence  down  Connecticut 
River  to  the  English  settlements,  and  had  been  much 
distinguished  by  the  slaughter  and  destruction  they 
had  spread  among  the  advanced  settlements,  by  the 
number  of  their  scalps  and  captives,  and  by  the 
enormity  of  their  cruelty  and  barbarity. 

Major  Rogers  was  appointed  by  General  Amherst 
to  manage  an  excursion  against  this  barbarous  tribe, 
and  to  carry  the  horrors  of  war  into  the  midst  of 
Canada.  Rogers  was  from  the  province  of  New 
Hampshire.  He  commanded  a  company  so  early  as 
the  year  1755,  and  had  become  so  famous  for  the 
number,  boldness,  and  success  of  his  enterprises, 
that  Lord  London  had  set  him  at  the  head  of  the 
ranging  companies,  put  him  upon  the  British  estab 
lishment  and  pay,  till  he  rose  to  the  rank  of  a  major. 
Amherst  esteemed  him  a  proper  person  to  retaliate 
on  an  Indian  village  some  of  the  measures  they  had 
so  often  acted  against  the  advanced  English  forts 
and  settlements.  The  orders  which  he  gave  to 
Rogers  were  expressive  of  the  character  and  views 
of  the  English  general,  and  of  the  sentiments  and 
feelings  of  the  English  colonies  with  respect  to  the 
Indian  cruelties.* 

*   "  ORDERS   FROM   SIR  JEFFREY   AMHERST  TO   MAJOR  ROGERS. 

"  You  are  this  night  to  set  out  with  the  detachment,  as  ordered 
yesterday,  (viz.,  of  two  hundred  men,)  and  proceed  to  Missiscoe  Bay, 
11* 


126  DESTRUCTION  OF  THE 

In  conformity  to  his  orders,  Rogers  set  out  with 
two  hundred  men  in  bateaux,  and  proceeded  down 
Lake  Champlain.  On  the  fifth  day  after  they  left 
Crown  Point,  they  met  with  a  misfortune  which 
diminished  their  numbers.  Being  encamped  on  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  lake,  a  keg  of  gunpowder  acci 
dentally  took  fire,  which  in  its  explosion  wounded  a 
captain  of  the  royal  regiment  and  several  of  the 
men.  These  were  sent  back  to  Crown  Point,  with 
some  of  the  party  to  conduct  them.  By  this  event 
the  party  was  reduced  to  one  hundred  and  forty-two 
men,  officers  included.  With  this  reduced  party  the 
major  proceeded  on  the  expedition,  and  in  seven 
days  landed  at  Missiscoe  Bay.  Here  he  concealed 
his  boats  among  the  bushes  that  hung  over  one  of 
the  streams,  and  left  in  them  provisions  sufficient 
to  carry  them  back  to  Crown  Point.  Two  of  his 
rangers  were  appointed  to  watch  the  boats,  and  to 

from  whence  you  will  march  and  attack  the  enemy's  settlements  on 
the  south  side  of  the  River  St.  Lawrence,  in  such  a  manner  as  you 
shall  judge  most  effectual  to  disgrace  the  enemy,  and  for  the  success 
and  honor  of  his  majesty's  arms. 

"  Remember  the  barbarities  that  hare  been  committed  by  the  enemy's 
Indian  scoundrels,  on  every  occasion  where  they  have  had  an  opportu 
nity  of  showing  their  infamous  cruelties  on  the  king's  subjects,  which 
they  have  done  without  mercy  ;  take  your  revenge ;  but  do  not  forget 
that  though  these  villains  have  dastardly  and  promiscuously  murdered 
the  women  and  children  of  all  orders,  it  is  my  orders  that  no  women 
or  children  be  killed  or  hurt. 

"When  you  have  executed  your  intended  service,  you  will  return 
with  your  detachment  to  camp,  or  to  join  me  wherever  the  army 
may  be.  Yours,  &c., 

"  JEFFREY  AMHBRST. 

"  CAME  AT  CROWN  POINT,  September  12, 1759." 


INDIAN  VILLAGE  OP  ST.  FRANCIS. 

keep  themselves  concealed  till  the  party  should 
return  ;  or,  if  the  enemy  should  discover  the  boats, 
to  pursue  the  track  of  the  party  with  the  greatest 
speed,  and  give  intelligence  to  the  commander.  The 
second  evening  after  Rogers  left  the  bay,  the  two 
trusty  rangers  overtook  the  party,  and  informed 
Rogers  that  four  hundred  French  and  Indians  had 
discovered  the  boats,  and  sent  them  away  with  fifty 
men,  and  that  the  remainder  were  in  pursuit  of  the 
English  party,  Rogers  kept  the  intelligence  to  him 
self,  and  ordered  a  lieutenant  with  eight  men  and 
these  two  rangers  to  proceed  to  Crown  Point,  in 
form  the  general  of  what  had  taken  place,  and 
request  him  to  send  provisions  to  Coos,  (now  New- 
bury,)  on  Connecticut  River,  by  which  he  meant  to 
return. 

Nothing  now  remained  for  Rogers  but  to  give  up 
the  expedition  or  to  outmarch  his  pursuers.  He 
determined  on  the  latter,  and  pushed  forward  for 
St.  Francis  with  all  the  expedition  that  was  possi 
ble.  On  the  4th  of  October,  at  eight  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  he  came  within  sight  of  the  town. 
Ordering  his  men  to  halt  and  refresh  themselves,  he 
dressed  himself  in  the  Indian  garb,  and  took  with 
him  two  Indians  who  understood  the  language  of 
the  St.  Francis  tribe,  and  went  to  reconnoitre  the 
town.  He  found  the  Indians  engaged  in  a  grand 
dance,  and  without  any  apprehension  of  danger. 
At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  he  returned  to  his 
detachment,  and  marched  them  to  the  distance  of 
about  five  hundred  yards  from  the  town.  About 


128  DESTRUCTION   OF  THE 

four  o'clock,  the  Indians  broke  up  their  dance,  and 
retired  to  rest.  Rogers  waited  till  they  were 
asleep,  and  at  break  of  day  he  posted  his  men  in 
the  most  favorable  situation,  and  made  a  general 
assault.  Completely  surprised,  the  Indians  were 
soon  subdued.  Some  were  killed  in  their  houses, 
and  of  those  who  attempted  to  fly,  many  were  shot 
or  knocked  on  the  head  by  those  who  were  placed 
at  the  avenues.  The  Indian  method  of  slaughter 
and  destruction  was  put  in  practice  on  this  occa 
sion  ;  and  wherever  the  Indians  were  found,  their 
men,  women,  and  children  were  slain  without  dis 
tinction  and  without  mercy.  The  ferocity  of  the 
proceedings  was  already  extremely  violent ;  but  the 
prospects  which  appeared  at  the  rising  of  the  sun 
could  not  but  add  new  force  and  irritation  to  the 
feelings  and  passions  of  the  assailants.  As  the  light 
appeared,  the  scalps  of  several  hundred  of  their 
countrymen  were  seen  suspended  on  poles,  and  wav 
ing  in  the  air.  These  trophies  of  savage  cruelty 
and  success  could  not  fail  to  irritate  to  the  highest 
degree  the  passions  of  the  provincial  soldiers  ;  they 
meant  to  avenge  the  blood  of  their  friends  and  rela 
tions,  and  they  spared  no  pains  to  make  an  end  of 
the  village  and  of  all  that  they  could  find  of  its 
inhabitants.  The  village  contained  three  hundred 
of  the  enemy ;  two  hundred  were  killed  on  the  spot, 
and  twenty  taken  prisoners. 

The  town  appeared  to  have  been  in  a  very  flourish 
ing  state..    The  houses  were  well  furnished,  and  the 
was  handsomely  adorned  with  plate ;    the 


INDIAN  VILLAGE   OF   ST.  FRANCIS.  129 

whole  village  had  been  enriched  by  the  scalps  and 
plunder  taken  from  the  English.  Two  hundred 
guineas  were  found  in  money,  and  a  silver  imago 
weighing  ten  pounds,  besides  a  large  quantity  of 
wampum,  clothing,  and  some  provisions.  Collect 
ing  the  provisions  and  such  articles  as  they  could 
easily  transport,  they  set  fire  to  the  town,  and 
reduced  it  to  ashes.  At  seven  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  the  affair  was  completely  over  ;  Rogers  then 
assembled  his  men,  and  found  that  one  was  killed, 
and  six  slightly  wounded.  Having  refreshed  his 
men  for  one  hour,  the  major  made  no  further  delay, 
but  set  out  on  his  return,  with  the  addition  of  five 
English  captives,  whom  he  had  retaken,  leaving  the 
inhabitants  slain,  and  the  village  reduced  to  ashes. 

To  avoid  his  pursuers,  Rogers  now  took  a  differ 
ent  route,  and  marched  up  St.  Francis  River,  mean 
ing  to  have  his  men  collect  and  rendezvous  at  Coos, 
on  Connecticut  River.  On  their  inarch  they  were 
harassed  by  some  of  the  enemy,  and  several  times 
attacked  in  the  rear.  In  these  rencontres  they  lost 
seven  of  their  men,  till  Rogers,  favored  by  the  dusk 
of  the  evening,  formed  an  ambuscade  upon  his  own 
track,  and  fell  upon  the  enemy  where  they  least  ex 
pected  it ;  by  this  stroke  he  put  an  end  to  any  fur 
ther  annoyance  from  the  enemy.  For  about  ten 
days  the  detachment  kept  together,  till  they  had 
passed  the  eastern  side  of  Lake  Memphremagog. 
It  was  then  thought  best  to  scatter  into  smaller  par 
ties,  and  make  the  best  of  their  way  to  some  of  the 
English  settlements.  Their  sufferings  now  began  to 


130  DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  VILLAGE  OF  ST.  FRANCIS. 

be  severe,  not  only  from  the  excessive  fatigues  they 
had  undergone,  but  from  hunger.  Their  provisions 
were  expended,  and  they  were  yet  at  a  distance 
from  any  place  of  relief.  Some  were  lost  in  the 
woods,  and  others  perished  at  Coos,  being  unable 
to  hold  out  any  further.  But  Rogers,  with  the  most 
of  his  men,  persevered  amidst  all  their  sufferings, 
till  they  arrived  at  Number  Four,  now  Charlestown. 
This  enterprise  proved  extremely  dangerous  and 
fatiguing  to  the  men  who  had  been  engaged  in  it, 
but  it  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  enemy.  It 
carried  alarm  and  consternation  into  the  heart  of 
Canada,  and  convinced  the  Indians  that  the  retalia 
tion  of  vengeance  was  now  come  upon  them. 


PETER   BROWN'S    TEMPERANCE    LESSON. 

AMONG  the  earliest  settlers  of  one  of  the  western 
towns  of  Windham  county,  Vermont,  was  a  certain 
man  named  Peter  Brown,  familiarly  called  "Old 
Pete,"  who,  entirely  alone  in  the  wilderness,  com 
menced  the  task  of  clearing  the  woods  and  securing 
for  himself  a  home.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years 
he  found  himself  surrounded  by  a  thriving  hamlet. 
Our  hero,  being  of  an  eccentric  turn  of  mind,  was 
the  butt  for  all  the  boys  in  the  neighborhood  to  play 
their  pranks  upon  ;  and  hence  our  story  arises. 

One  fruitful  summer,  Peter,  being  moved  with  a 
desire  for  the  good  things  of  this  life,  cultivated,  to 
the  wonder  of  all  round  about,  a  patch  of  water 
melons.  These  were  the  first  raised  in  that  part  of 
the  state,  and  the  temptation  to  the  boys  was  strong 
to  assist  him  in  disposing  of  them.  At  length,  after 
losing  many  of  the  best  ones,  he  concluded  to  watch 
the  next  night,  and  see  what  could  be  done  towards 
catching  the  depredators.  By  the  way,  old  Pete, 
although  not  a  drunkard,  was  yet  one  who  loved  his 
bottle,  and  prided  himself  upon  keeping  the  best 
whiskey  in  all  the  country,  never  leaving  home  with 
out  his  pint  bottle,  which  he  called  by  the  familiar 
name  of  "Betty."  On  the  occasion  in  question, 

(131) 


132       PETER  BROWN'S  TEMPERANCE  LESSON. 

having  replenished  "  Betty,"  he  filled  his  cart  with 
fresh  straw,  and  started  for  the  melon  patch.  This 
was  situated  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  at  the  foot  of 
which  was  a  muddy  pond,  some  two  rods  in  diame 
ter,  and  three  feet  deep,  and  mostly  frequented  by 
tadpoles  and  other  small  fry  of  that  sort. 

As  was  said,  Peter  started  for  his  melon  patch 
with  every  thing  prepared  for  a  vigorous  campaign. 
The  oxen  turned  into  the  pasture,  his  next  care  was 
to  locate  the  cart  where  he  could  overlook  the 
whole  field  ;  he  blocked  the  wheels,  and,  putting 
"  Betty  "  in  his  pocket,  commenced  his  lonely  patrol. 
Leaving  Brown  carefully  attending  to  his  melons, 
let  us  return  to  the  boys,  who  take  quite  a  promi 
nent  part  in  our  story.  Peter,  like  many  a  man  of 
our  own  times,  could  never  keep  a  secret ;  so  all 
his  preparations  became  known  to  his  friends  the 
boys,  who  formed  their  plans  accordingly,  and  early 
in  the  evening  ensconced  themselves  in  a  clump  of 
bushes  near  by,  to  await  the  favorable  moment  for 
their  operations. 

As  time  progressed,  Peter's  bottle  made  frequent 
visits  from  pocket  to  mouth,  until,  whether  from 
fatigue  or  too  frequent  libations,  he  became  very 
sleepy,  and  by  ten  in  the  evening  turned  in  and 
nestled  very  comfortably  in  the  straw  on  the  cart, 
intending,  of  course,  to  keep  one  eye  open.  In 
spite  of  his  strenuous  exertions  to  the  contrary, 
sleep  entirely  overcame  him  ;  and  his  loud  snoring 
announced  to  the  boys  in  the  bushes  that  the  time 
had  come  for  their  sport;  so  out  they  sallied,  and, 


PETER  BROWN'S   TEMPERANCE   LESSON.          133 

having  selected  half  a  dozen  of  the  best  melons, 
returned  to  an  appointed  place,  where  ample  justice 
was  done  to  the  delicious  fruit.  Their  main  object 
being  accomplished,  next  comes  the  fun ;  and  to 
this  they  applied  themselves  with  zest.  Stealing 
out  cautiously,  one  held  the  tongue  of  the  cart, 
while  others  removed  the  blocking  from  the  wheels  ; 
then,  with  a  shove,  off  went  cart,  Pete,  bottle,  straw, 
and  all.  The  probability  seemed  strong  for  a  fine 
ride  and  a  safe  deliverance  at  the  bottom  ;  but  for 
tune  willed  otherwise  ;  for,  as  the  hill  was  steep, 
the  speed  grew  greater,  till  the  whole  establish 
ment  ran  plump  into  the  pond,  when,  striking  a 
log  sunk  in  the  middle,  the  stoppage  was  so  sud 
den  as  to  pitch  Pete  and  all  his  gear  into  the 
water.  After  splashing  for  a  while,  till  some  of  the 
effects  of  the  liquor  were  gone,  he  caught  a  wheel, 
and  drew  himself  up  into  the  cart,  where  he  sat  in 
perfect  bewilderment  as  to  how  and  when  he  came 
there.  Having  removed  the  mud  and  grass  from 
his  face,  at  length  he  came  to  himself,  and  recol 
lected  mounting  the  cart  and  settling  himself  in  the 
straw.  From  that  time  his  memory  was  as  much  in 
the  dark  as  was  every  thing  around  him. 

The  boys  all  this  time  stood  near,  watching. 
When  the  old  man  fell  in,  their  first  thought  was  to 
help  him  out,  for  fear  he  would  be  drowned ;  but 
when  he  was  seen  seated  safely  in  the  cart,  and  no 
danger  was  to  be  apprehended,  they  disappeared 
behind  the  hill  in  high  glee.  Peter  felt  very  mis 
erable,  and  hardly  knew  what  to  do.  He  was  just 
12 


134       PETER  BROWN'S  TEMPERANCE  LESSON. 

drunk  enough  not  to  have  a  very  clear  idea  of  his 
situation,  and  hence  feared  to  start  for  the  shore. 
Finally  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the  best 
way  was  to  try  and  raise  some  neighbors  who  lived 
near.  These,  coming  at  his  cry,  soon  built  a  fire, 
by  the  light  of  which  Peter  Brown  came  safe  to 
shore.  When  the  loss  of  the  melons  was  discov 
ered,  it  was  easy  to  understand  the  cause  of  the  dis 
aster,  his  rapid  ride  and  plunge.  It  is  said  that 
Pete  never  recovered  his  "  Betty,"  and,  furthermore, 
never  got  another  :  however  that  may  be,  Brown 
never  forgot  his  night's  adventure,  or  the  very  prac 
tical  temperance  lesson  he  had  received. 


INCIDENTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  OF  COLONEL 
ETHAN  ALLEN. 

ETHAN  ALLEN,  one  of  the  most  prominent  of  the 
heroes  of  Vermont,  was  born  in  Litehfield,  Con 
necticut,  January  10,  1737.  He  removed  hence  to 
Vermont,  1770.  Previous  to  this  removal,  nothing 
is  known  of  him,  except  that  he  made  frequent  jour 
neys  to  Vermont,  to  locate  lands  under  the  grants 
of  New  Hampshire.  His  first  public  acts  were  in 
defending  the  settlers  under  these  grants  from  the 
claims  of  the  State  of  New  York.  This  controversy 
continued  for  a  long  time  to  occupy  the  minds  of  the 
inhabitants ;  and  though  during  the  revolutionary 
war  all  united  in  the  common  cause,  the  final  settle 
ment  of  the  dispute  was  not  until  1791.  Throughout 
the  whole,  Allen  took  a  prominent  part ;  and  it  was 
much  owing  to  his  influence  that  the  issue  was  so 
favorable  to  the  New  Hampshire  grantees.  Allen 
never  having  had  the  advantages  of  early  education, 
the  works  which  he  wrote  possessed  not  sufficient 
interest  or  importance  to  secure  their  preservation 
to  the  present  day,  though  they  showed  many  traces 
of  a  mind  naturally  strong  and  vigorous  to  a  high 
degree.  The  chief  points  in  his  character  were  an 
unconquerable  industry  and  perseverance  in  what- 

(135) 


136  INCIDENTS   FROM  THE  LIFE 

ever  he  undertook.  He  possessed,  also,  the  great 
est  bravery,  which,  though  ever  tempered  by  pru 
dence  when  the  lives  of  others  depended  upon  him, 
yet  amounted  even  to  rashness  in  the  exposure  of 
his  own  person.  While  firm  in  resistance  to  the 
encroachments  of  others,  he  was  a  strong,  unwaver 
ing  friend  to  law  and  order. 

The  courage  and  prudence  of  Colonel  Allen  were 
evident  at  the  celebrated  capture  of  Ticonderoga, 
with  which  every  child  is  familiar,  and  in  his  expe 
dition  under  Montgomery  to  Canada.  Though  the 
latter  terminated  disastrously,  it  was  owing  to  no 
fault  of  his. 

In  his  narrative  of  this  affair  he  tells  the  follow 
ing  incident,  which  fully  illustrates  his  personal 
fearlessness.  He  had  surrendered  under  pressure 
of  vastly  superior  numbers,  on  condition  that  all 
his  men  should  be  treated  with  honor  ;  but  General 
Prescott,  the  British  commander,  ordering  up  a  guard 
in  his  presence  to  execute  a  number  of  Canadians 
who  were  taken  with  him,  Allen  says,  — 

"  It  cut  me  to  the  heart  to  see  the  Canadians  in 
so  hard  a  case,  in  consequence  of  their  having  been 
true  to  me  ;  they  were  wringing  their  hands,  saying 
their  prayers,  as  I  concluded,  and  expected  immedi 
ate  death.  I  therefore  stepped  between  the  execu 
tioners  and  the  Canadians,  opened  my  clothes,  and 
told  General  Prescott  to  thrust  his  bayonet  into  my 
breast,  for  I  was  the  sole  cause  of  the  Canadians 
taking  up  arms. 

"  The  guard,  in  the  mean  time,  rolling  their  eye- 


OP  COLONEL  ETHAN  ALLEN.         137 

balls  from  the  general  to  me,  seemed  impatiently 
waiting  his  dread  command  to  sheathe  their  bayo 
nets  in  my  heart ;  I  could,  however,  plainly  discern 
that  he  was  in  a  suspense  and  quandary  about  the 
matter.  This  gave  me  additional  hopes  of  succeed 
ing  ;  for  my  design  was  not  to  die,  but  to  save  the 
Canadians  by  a  finesse.  The  general  stood  a  min 
ute,  when  he  made  me,  with  an  oath,  the  following 
reply  :  '  I  will  not  execute  you  now,  but  you  shall 
grace  a  halter  at  Tyburn.'  "  It  is  needless  to  add 
that  Allen  never  saw  that  famous  hill. 

At  one  time  a  large  reward  was  offered  by  the 
State  of  New  York  for  the  apprehension  of  Allen.* 
His  friends  were  much  alarmed  ;  but  Allen  laughed 
at  them,  and  offered  a  bet  that  he  would  proceed  to 
Albany,  drink  a  bowl  of  punch,  and  return  unhurt. 
Accordingly,  the  bet  being  accepted,  he  rode  to 
Albany,  and,  after  deliberately  alighting  from  his 
horse,  and  entering  the  house  with  a  haughty  air, 
called  for  a  bowl  of  punch.  The  intelligence  that 
"  Ethan  Allen  was  in  the  city  "  spread  rapidly,  and 
a  large  concourse  of  people  collected  around  the 
house,  among  whom  was  the  sheriff  of  Albany 
county.  Allen  was  wholly  unmoved.  Having  fin 
ished  his  punch,  he  went  to  the  door,  mounted  his 
horse,  and  giving  a  hearty  "  Huzza  for  the  Green 
Mountains  !  "  departed  unharmed.  Those  who  were 
disposed  to  arrest  him  felt  that  the  enterprise  would 
not  be  unaccompanied  with  danger. 

•  See  De  Puy's  "Ethan  Allen  and  the  Green  Mountain  Heroes 
of  76." 

12* 


138  INCIDENTS   FROM  THE   LIFE 

Another  anecdote  is  alike  illustrative  of  the  temer 
ity  of  Allen  and  the  heroism  of  one  of  the  women 
of  those  exciting  times.  While  travelling  upon  the 
shores  of  Lake  Champlain,  opposite  Crown  Point, 
with  a  single  companion,  he  stopped  at  the  house  of 
a  Mr.  Richards.  It  happened  that,  at  the  same 
time,  a  party  of  six  soldiers  from  the  neighboring 
fortress,  fully  armed,  were  at  the  house,  with  the 
intention  of  remaining  during  the  night.  Knowing 
Allen,  they  determined  on  arresting  him,  and  ob 
taining  the  tempting  reward  offered  by  the  govern 
ment  of  New  York  for  his  apprehension.  Mrs. 
Richards  overheard  their  conversation,  and  when 
lighting  Allen  and  his  companion  to  their  room, 
informed  them  of  the  design  of  the  soldiers,  and 
silently  raising  a  window,  advised  them  to  escape. 
When  the  soldiers  discovered  that  Allen  had  left 
the  house,  they  threatened  Mrs.  Richards  with  pun 
ishment  for  conniving  at  the  escape  of  the  heroic 
leader  of  the  Green  Mountain  Boys  ;  but  she  apol 
ogized,  on  the  ground  that  if  she  had  failed  to  do 
so,  the  people  would  have  torn  down  her  house,  and 
driven  herself  and  family  from  their  possessions. 

The  patriotism  of  Allen  was  entirely  regardless 
of  family  ties.  On  one  occasion,  when  his  brother 
Levi  joined  the  Tories,  he  entered  a  complaint 
against  him  to  the  patriot  authorities,  praying  that 
his  property  be  confiscated  for  the  use  of  the  public. 
When  Levi  heard  of  it,  he  challenged  Ethan  to 
single  combat.  Ethan  replied  that  it  would  be  dis- 


OP  COLONEL  ETHAN  ALLEN.        139 

graceful  to  fight  a  Tory.     We  may  remark   that 
Levi  afterwards  became  a  staunch  Whig. 

We  append  an  exact  copy  of  the  above  complaint 
of  Colonel  Allen  against  his  brother. 

"  BENNINGTON  COUNTY,  ss.  * 
Arlington,  $th  of  January,  1779.  } 
"To  the  Honorable  the  Court  of  Confiscation 
comes  Colonel  Ethan  Allen,  in  the  name  of  the  free 
men  of  this  State,  and  complaint  makes  that  Levi 
Allen,  late  of  Salisbury,  in  Connecticut,  is  of  tory 
principles,  and  holds  in  fee  sundry  tracts  and  par 
cels  of  land  in  this  State.  The  said  Levi  has  been 
detected  in  endeavoring  to  supply  the  enemy  on 
Long  Island,  and  in  attempting  to  circulate  counter 
feit  continental  currency,  and  is  guilty  of  holding 
treasonable  correspondence  with  the  enemy,  under 
cover  of  doing  favors  to  me,  when  a  prisoner  at 
New  York  and  Long  Island ;  and  in  talking  and 
using  influence  in  favor  of  the  enemy,  associating 
with  inimical  persons  to  this  country,  and  with  them 
monopolizing  the  necessaries  of  life  ;  in  endeavor 
ing  to  lessen  the  credit  of  the  continental  currency ; 
and  in  particular  hath  exerted  himself  in  the  most 
fallacious  manner,  to  injure  the  property  and  charac 
ter  of  some  of  the  most  zealous  friends  to  the  inde 
pendency  of  the  United  States,  and  of  this  State 
likewise  ;  all  which  inimical  conduct  is  against  the 
peace  and  dignity  of  the  freemen  of  this  State :  I 
therefore  pray  the  Honorable  Court  to  take  the 


140  INCIDENTS  FROM  THE  LIFE 

matter  under  their  consideration,  and  make  confis 
cation  of  the  estate  of  said  Levi,  before  mentioned, 
according  to  the  laws  and  customs  of  this  State,  in 
such  case  made  and  provided. 

"ETHAN  ALLEN." 

Our  hero  was  distinguished  for  his  contempt  of 
pain.  Once,  while  in  a  dentist's  office,  a  lady  came 
in  who  was  severely  afflicted  with  an  aching  tooth, 
but  who  had  not  the  courage  to  submit  to  its  extrac 
tion.  Allen,  perceiving  her  fears,  ordered  the  den 
tist  to  take  out  one  of  his.  He  was  assured  that  all 
his  teeth  were  sound  ;  but  Allen  said,  "  Never  mind  ; 
do  as  I  bid  you  ;  "  and  soon  the  tooth  was  out.  It 
hardly  need  be  added  that  the  lady,  ashamed  of  her 
fears,  followed  his  example. 

The  following  anecdote  is  related  of  Colonel 
Allen  to  show  that  while  determined  that  the  guilty 
should  suffer  for  their  faults,  he  was  yet  equally 
strenuous  that  all  the  forms  of  justice  should  be 
complied  with. 

A  certain  David  Redding  was  accused  of  supply 
ing  the  enemy  with  food,  and  performing  many 
other  acts  unfriendly  to  his  country.  He  was  first 
tried  by  a  jury  of  six  persons,  under  the  authority 
of  the  Council  of  Safety,  and,  being  convicted,  was 
sentenced  to  be  hung  on  the  6th  of  June,  1778. 
In  the  mean  time,  one  John  Burnam  appeared  from 
Connecticut,  with  Blackstone  in  his  saddle  bags, 
and  declared  before  the  council  that  a  man  could 
not  be  legally  tried  by  less  than  twelve  men,  thus 


OP  COLONEL  ETHAN  ALLEN.        141 

proving  Red  ding's  trial  irregular.  The  council  im 
mediately  granted  a  reprieve  and  a  new  trial. 

A  multitude  had  assembled  at  the  time  appoint 
ed  for  the  execution,  when  the  news  of  this  proce 
dure  came  out.  Their  disappointment  was  very 
great,  and  an  attempt  was  made  to  rescue  the  pris 
oner,  and  hang  him  in  spite  of  every  thing.  Allen 
mounted  a  stump,  and  exclaimed,  "  Attention,  the 
whole ! "  He  then  advised  them  to  retire  to  their 
houses,  and  return  at  the  time  fixed  by  the  council, 
saying,  with  a  tremendous  oath,  "  You  shall  see 
somebody  hung  ;  if  Redding  is  not,  I'll  be  hung 
myself."  Upon  this  the  crowd  dispersed  ;  and  Red 
ding,  having  been  again  convicted,  -was  executed  on 
the  appointed  day. 

In  religious  belief  Allen  was  a  deist,  and  was 
fond  of  displaying  his  peculiar  views  on  all  occa 
sions  ;  his  wife,  however,  was  a  devoted  Christian. 
Notwithstanding  the  infidel  character  of  his  views, 
Allen  was  staunch  in  his  love  of  truth,  and  a  thor 
ough  contemner  of  any  thing  like  equivocation  or 
deceit. 

On  one  occasion  a  person  to  whom  he  owed  money 
had  commenced  a  suit  against  him.  Allen  was  un 
able  to  pay  the  debt,  and  employed  a  lawyer  to 
have  the  execution  of  legal  process  against  him 
postponed  for  a  short  period.  As  an  easy  measure 
to  effect  this,  and  throw  the  case  over  to  the  next 
session  of  the  court,  the  lawyer  denied  the  genuine 
ness  of  the  signature ;  Allen,  who  was  present, 
stepped  angrily  forward,  and  exclaimed  to  his 


142     INCIDENTS   FROM  THE  LIFE   OF   ETHAN    ALLEN. 

astonished  counsel,  "  Sir,  I  did  not  employ  you  to 
come  here  and  lie  ;  I  wish  you  to  tell  the  truth. 
The  note  is  a  good  one  ;  the  signature  is  mine  ;  all 
I  want  is  for  the  court  to  grant  me  sufficient  time 
to  make  the  payment."  It  is  almost  needless  to 
add  that  the  plaintiff  acceded  to  his  wish. 

Allen  died  suddenly  at  Burlington,  Yt.,  February 
12,  1789,  at  the  age  of  fifty  years,  while  yet  in  the 
fulness  of  his  vigor  and  strength. 


SEIZURE  OF  CAPTAIN  REMEMBER  BAKER 
BY  THE  YORKERS. 

1772. 

THE  subject  of  the  following  narrative  was  one 
of  the  most  prominent  men  on  the  side  of  the  Green 
Mountain  Boys,  in  the  protracted  struggle  which 
was  carried  on  with  the  authorities  of  New  York. 
Having  lost  his  father  in  early  youth,  severe  neces 
sity  gave  him  habits  of  prudence,  energy,  and  self- 
reliance,  which  well  fitted  him  to  become  a  leader 
among  resolute  men.  He  was  a  soldier  and  after 
wards  an  officer  in  the  French  war,  and  gained  no 
little  distinction  by  his  bravery  and  discretion.  He 
settled  in  Arlington,  Yt.,  about  the  year  1764,  and 
built  some  mills.  These  were  the  first  erected 
north  of  Bennington,  and  attracted  numerous  set 
tlers  to  the  vicinity.  Baker  early  incurred  the  dis 
pleasure  of  the  officials  of  New  York  by  the  vigor 
with  which  he  opposed  their  efforts  to  gain  jurisdic 
tion  over  the  New  Hampshire  grants,  as  well  as  by 
the  influence  which  his  example  had  upon  others. 
He  was  denounced  to  the  world  as  a  felon,  and,  in 
company  with  Ethan  Allen  and  Seth  Warner,  he 
enjoyed  the  distinction  of  having  a  large  reward 
offered  for  his  apprehension.  These  circumstances 

(H3) 


144  SEIZURE   OP    CAPTAIN   BAKER 

led  one  John  Munro,  an  active  partisan  of  New 
York,  to  assemble  ten  or  twelve  men  of  like  feeling 
with  himself,  for  the  purpose  of  seizing  Captain 
Baker,  and  carrying  him  to  Albany.  The  following 
account  of  the  transaction  is  taken,  with  some  little 
alteration  for  the  reader's  sake,  from  the  Connecticut 
Courant  of  June  9,  1772.  It  is  understood  to  have 
been  written  by  Colonel  Ethan  Allen.* 

"  This  wicked,  inhuman,  most  barbarous,  infamous, 
cruel,  villanous,  and  thievish  act  was  perpetrated, 
committed,  and  carried  into  execution  by  one  John 
Munro,  a  reputed  justice  of  the  peace,  living  near 
Arlington,  with  a  number  of  ruffians,  his  neighbors. 
These,  after  a  Lord's  day  consultation  in  plotting 
this  wicked  and  horrid  design,  surprised  Baker  in 
his  dwelling  house,  about  the  first  appearance  of 
morning  light  on  the  22d  day  of  March.  After 
making  an  attempt  to  discharge  their  firearms 
through  Baker's  house,  and  finding  them  miss  fire, 
Munro  with  his  attendants  did  with  axes  forcibly 
break  and  enter  Baker's  house,  and  with  weapons 
of  death  spread  destruction  round  the  room,  cutting 
with  swords  and  bruising  with  firearms  and  clubs 
men,  women,  and  children  ;  swearing  he  would  have 
Baker,  dead  or  alive,  and  that  he  would  burn  the 
house  —  Baker,  wife,  children,  and  all  the  effects. 
To  compass  and  bring  this  villanous  scheme  into 
execution,  he  did,  with  his  own  wicked  and  rebel 
lious  hand,  convey  fire  from  the  hearth  to  a  cup- 

*  See  De  Puy's  "  Ethan  Allen  and  the  Green  Mountain  Heroes  of 
'76,"  p.  16L 


BY  THE  YORKERS.  145 

board  in  the  room,  it  being  the  most  convenient 
place  to  answer  his  intentions ;  when  all  on  a  sud 
den  a  Judas  spirit  —  that  of  gain  and  plunder  — 
overbalanced  his  wicked  noddle.  This  being  agreed 
on,  he  instantly  thrust  his  sword  at  Mrs.  Baker, 
with  an  intention  to  destroy  her  life,  (as  he  has 
since  confessed,)  when  her  right  arm  for  that  time 
happily  preserved  her  from  the  intended  murder. 
Others  of  his  attendants,  in  the  mean  time,  were 
mauling,  beating,  and  bruising  his  children.  Mr. 
Baker,  having  at  that  time  posted  himself  in  his 
chamber,  for  the  better  security  of  himself,  his  fam 
ily,  and  effects,  finding  their  malice  and  impreca 
tions  principally  levelled  at  his  person,  thought 
proper  to  leave  his  chamber,  thinking  thereby  to 
draw  the  murderers  after  him,  and  so  give  his  fam 
ily  a  better  opportunity  to  save  themselves  from 
impending  ruin  and  utter  destruction.  He  accord 
ingly  burst  a  board  from  the  gable  end  of  the  house, 
and  leaped  out ;  when  part  of  the  ruffians  were 
ordered  by  Munro,  after  firing  upon  Baker,  to  set 
on  him  a  large,  spiteful,  wilful,  arid  very  malicious 
dog,  educated  and  brought  up  agreeably  to  their 
own  forms  and  notions.  He  was,  like  those  other 
servants  of  the  devil,  at  that  time  all  obedience. 
He  seized  Baker,  and  being  instantly  joined  by  his 
cruel  partners,  the  prisoner  was  bound  and  pinioned 
so  fast  that  he  was  unable  to  make  the  least  resist 
ance  in  defence  of  himself,  his  unhappy,  wounded 
wife,  or  his  poor,  helpless,  distressed  children. 
"  And  not  being  as  yet  satisfied  with  their  own 
18 


146  SEIZURE  OF  CAPTAIN  KAKEK 

unlawful  proceedings,  and  their  thirst  for  blood  not 
being  quenched,  the  better  to  enhance  and  increase 
their  horrid  crimes,  asd  procure  a  fell  draught  of 
human  blood  to  quench  their  unnatural  thirst,  they 
conveyed  Baker  to  the  carriage  in  which  they  roder 
where,  in  his  confined  statef  John  Munro  did  with 
his  attendants  tomahawk,  cut,  and  slash  him  in 
spots,  that  their  eyes  might  see  a  life  languish  out 
by  degrees  in  streams  of  blood,  while  they  did, 
with  an  oath  at  almost  every  breath,  laugh  him  in 
the  face,  to  express  their  satisfaction  in  his  agoniz^ 
ing  groans. 

"In  this  awful  and  lamentable  situation  —  almost 
on  the  verge  of  eternity  by  means  of  his  bruises, 
cuts,  and  great  effusion  of  blood  —  Baker,  with  a 
voice  according  to  his  strength,  called  for  his 
clothes  ;  for  thus  far  he  was  just  as  he  rose  from  his 
bed.  But  he  was  denied  these  by  Justice  Munro> 
who  gave  him  several  strokes  with  his  naked  sword 
over  the  face  and  eyes,  breaking  the  weapon  into* 
three  pieces.  He  followed  this  inhuman  act  with 

the  menace  that '  he  would  clothe  him  as  a 

traitor; '  which  aggravating  threat  gave  a  new  sip 
to  their  beloved  revenge.  Thus  they  continued 
him  in  his  naked  journey  for  the  space  of  four  miles 
and  a  half,  with  many  cruel  words  and  hard  blows? 
stopping  his  breath  with  handkerchiefs  till  he  was 
almost  suffocated,  lest  he  should  apply  to  some  per 
son  for  relief. 

"  The  justice  and  attendants  had  taken  those  of 
the  effects  belonging  to  the  house  which  he  and 


BY  THE  YORKERS.  147 

they,  in  their  trepidation,  thought  worthy  their 
notice  ;  although  they  would  probably  have  been 
more  faithful  in  the  prosecution  of  selfish  and 
worldly  gain,  had  they  not  feared  a  surprise  in  so 
unchristian  an  act.  They  pursued  their  journey 
with  severe  words  and  cruel  threats,  as  though 
resolved  to  take  full  swing,  and  make  an  ample 
feast  of  human  cruelty.  They  were  followed  by 
three  loyal  and  faithful  men,  who,  after  asking  for 
the  preservation  of  Baker's  life,  were  fired  upon  by 
several  of  Munro's  party,  and  robbed  of  what  they 
had  with  them,  to  the  value  of  forty  dollars,  as  a 
fresh  sip  and  recruit  to  their  hellish  desires.  These 
distressing  tidings,  being  soon  spread  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  stirred  up  the  innocent  inhabitants.  For 
the  preservation  of  their  own  persons,  their  families 
and  effects,  as  well  as  those  of  Baker,  some  of  them 
pursued  the  carriage  about  thirty  miles,  coming  up 
with  it  at  the  Hudson  River  ferry,  opposite  to 
Albany.  The  savage-like  John,  with  his  attend 
ants,  being  conscience  struck  and  condemned,  ran 
and  hid  themselves  so  privately  that  it  is  not  known 
by  his  or  their  acquaintances  where  they  have  been 
ever  since  ;  leaving  Baker  with  very  little  remains 
of  life,  unable  to  fight  for  himself,  and  relying,  as  he 
had  never  done  before,  upon  the  mercies  of  his  foes. 
"  Such  is  a  very  short  though  true  account  of  the 
barbarous  conduct  of  the  said  John  towards  Baker 
and  his  family.  Such  conduct,  exercised  by  a  pre 
tended  or  real  civil  magistrate,  must  be  a  reproach, 
a  shame,  and  disgrace  to  the  laws,  restrictions,  reg- 


148     SEIZURE   OF    CAPTAIN   BAKER   BY  THE  YORKERS. 

ulations,  peace,  manners,  good  order,  and  economy, 
both  of  the  laws  of  God  and  man.  The  above  and 
much  more  can  be  attested  with  good  authority,  as 
many  worthy  persons  were  eye  witnesses  of  the 
tragedy.  The  robbery  has  since  been  confessed  by 
the  said  justice,  and  he  has  promised  to  make 
amends."  * 

*  This  last  clause  seems  to  have  been  added  some  time  after  the 
article  was  written.  The  reader  will  observe  that  the  publication  was 
more  than  two  months  after  the  occurrence  it  narrates. 


FEMALE    COURAGE. 

FROM  THOMPSON'S  "GAZETTEER  OF  VERMONT." 

DURING  the  revolutionary  war,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  western  part  of  the  State  of  Vermont,  which 
had  then  been  settled  but  a  few  years,  were  much 
exposed  to  the  depredations  of  the  merciless  Indians. 
Coming  down  Lake  Champlain  in  their  canoes,  they 
generally  fell  upon  the  settlements  before  they  had 
any  warning  of  their  approach.  As  they  seldom 
molested  women  and  children,  it  was  customary  for 
the  men  to  flee  into  the  woods  till  the  Indians  had 
performed  their  work  of  plunder.  At  one  time  a 
party  of  them  entered  the  house  of  Mr.  Philip 
Stone,  of  Bridport,  Vt.,  giving  him  but  just  time 
to  escape;  and  after  stripping  it  of  every  thing 
of  value  to  them,  the  principal  sanhop  put  on  the 
finest  shirt  it  afforded,  and,  swaggering  away  to  the 
hogsty,  selected  the  best  hog,  and  officiated  as  chief 
butcher,  flourishing  his  fine  bloody  sleeves,  while 
his  comrades,  whooping  and  dancing,  carried  it 
away  to  their  canoes.  At  another  time,  a  party  of 
Indians,  coming  up  the  bank,  were  discovered  by 
Mrs.  Stone  in  season  to  throw  some  things  out  of  a 
back  window  into  the  weeds,  put  a  few  in  her  bosom, 
13  * 


150  FEMALE  COURAGE. 

and  sit  down  to  her  carding.  The  Indians,  after 
taking  what  they  could  find  elsewhere,  came  about 
Mrs.  Stone  and  the  children.  One  of  them,  seem 
ing  to  suspect  that  she  had  some  valuable  articles 
concealed  about  her  person,  attempted  to  pull  them 
from  her  bosom  ;  whereupon  she  struck  him  on  the 
face  with  the  teeth  side  of  her  card  so  violently 
that  he  withdrew  his  hand,  while  a  tall  young  sav 
age  was  flourishing  his  tomahawk  over  her  head. 
Upon  this  an  old  Indian  cried  out,  "  Good  squaw  f 
good  squaw  !  "  and  burst  into  a  laugh  of  derision  at 
his  companions,  for  being  beaten. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  BENNINGTON. 

FROM  WILLIAMS'S  "HISTORY  OF  VERMONT." 

1777, 

GENERAL  BURGOYNE  was  making  very  slow  ad 
vances  from  Lake  Champlain  towards  Albany. 
Having  received  information  that  a  large  quantity 
of  stores  was  laid  up  at  Bennington^  and  guarded 
only  by  the  militia,  he  formed  the  design  of  surpris 
ing  that  plaoe^,  and  was  made  to  believe  that  as 
soon  as  a  detachment  of  the  royal  army  should  ap 
pear  in  that  quarter,  it  would  receive  effectual  assist 
ance  from  a  large  body  of  loyalists,  who  only  waited 
for  the  appearance  of  a  support,  and  would,  in  that 
event,  come  forward  and  aid  the  royal  cause.  Full 
of  these  expectations,  he  detached  Colonel  Baum,  a 
German  officer,  with  a  select  body  of  troops,  to 
surprise  the  place.  His  force  consisted  of  about 
five  hundred  regular  troops,  some  Canadians,  and 
more  than  one  hundred  Indians,  with  two  light 
pieces  of  artillery.  To  facilitate  their  operations, 
and  to  be  ready  to  take  advantage  of  the  success 
of  the  detachment,  the  royal  army  moved  along  the 
east  bank  of  Hudson's  River,  and  encamped  nearly 

(151) 


152  THE   BATTLE    OF    BENNINGTON. 

opposite  to  Saratoga,  having  at  the  same  time 
thrown  a  bridge  of  rafts  over  the  river,  by  which 
the  army  passed  to  that  place.  With  a  view  to 
support  Baum,  if  it  should  be  found  necessary, 
Lieutenant  Colonel  Breyman's  corps,  consisting  of 
the  Brunswick  grenadiers,  light  infantry,  and  chas 
seurs,  were  posted  at  Battenkill. 

General  Stark,  having  received  information  that 
a  party  of  Indians  were  at  Cambridge,  sent  Lieu 
tenant  Colonel  Greg,  on  August  13,  with  a  party 
of  two  hundred  men,  to  stop  their  progress.  Towards 
night  he  was  informed  by  express  that  a  large  body 
of  regulars  was  in  the  rear  of  the  Indians,  and  ad 
vancing  towards  Bennington.  On  this  intelligence, 
Stark  drew  together  his  brigade  and  the  militia 
that  were  at  hand,  and  sent  on  to  Manchester,  to 
Colonel  Warner,  to  bring  on  his  regiment ;  he  sent 
expresses  at  the  same  time  to  the  neighboring  militia, 
to  join  him  with  the  utmost  speed.  On  the  morning' 
of  the  14th  he  marched,  with  his  troops,  and  at  the 
distance  of  seven  miles  he  met  Greg  on  the  retreat, 
and  the  enemy  within  a  mile  of  him.  Stark  drew 
up  his  troops  in  the  order  of  battle  ;  but  the  enemy, 
coming  in  sight,  halted  upon  a  very  advantageous 
piece  of  ground.  Baum  perceived  the  Americans 
were  too  strong  to  be  attacked  with  his  present 
force,  and  sent  an  express  to  Burgoyne,  with  an 
account  of  his  situation,  and  to  have  Breyman 
march  immediately  to  support  him.  In  the  mean 
time,  small  parties  of  the  Americans  kept  up  a  skir 
mish  with  the  enemy,  killed  and  wounded  thirty  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BENNINGTON.        153 

them,  with  two  of  their  Indian  chiefs,  without  any 
loss  to  themselves.  The  ground  the  Americans  had 
taken  was  unfavorable  for  a  general  action,  and 
Stark  retreated  about  a  mile,  and  encamped.  A 
council  of  war  was  held,  and  it  was  agreed  to  send 
two  detachments  upon  the  enemy's  rear,  while  the 
rest  of  the  troops  should  make  an  attack  upon  their 
front.  The  next  day  the  weather  was  rainy  ;  and 
though  it  prevented  a  general  action,  there  were 
frequent  skirmishings  in  small  parties,  which  proved 
favorable  and  encouraging  to  the  Americans. 

On  August  16,  in  the  morning,  Stark  was  joined 
by  Colonel  Symonds  and  a  body  of  militia  from 
Berkshire,  and  proceeded  to  attack  the  enemy, 
agreeably  to  the  plan  which  had  been  concerted. 
Colonel  Baum,  in  the  mean  time,  had  intrenched  on 
an  advantageous  piece  of  ground  near  St.  Koick's 
mills,  on  a  branch  of  Hoosic  River,  and  rendered 
his  post  as  strong  as  his  circumstances  and  situation 
would  admit.  Colonel  Nichols  was  detached  with 
two  hundred  men  to  the  rear  of  his  left ;  Colonel 
Herrick,  with  three  hundred  men,  to  the  rear  of  his 
right ;  both  were  to  join,  and  then  make  the  attack. 
Colonels  Hubbard  and  Stickney,  with  two  hundred 
more,  were  ordered  on  the  right,  and  one  hundred 
were  advanced  towards  the  front,  to  draw  the  atten 
tion  of  the  enemy  that  way.  About  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  the  troops  had  taken  their  posi 
tion,  and  were  ready  to  commence  the  action.  While 
Nichols  and  Herrick  were  bringing  their  troops  to 
gether,  the  Indians  were  alarmed  at  the  prospect, 


154       THE  BATTLE  OF  BENNINGTON. 

and  pushed  off  between  the  two  corps,  but  received 
a  fire  as  they  were  passing,  by  which  three  of  them 
were  killed,  and  two  wounded. 

Nichols  then  began  the  attack,  and  was  followed 
by  all  the  other  divisions  ;  those  in  the  front  imme 
diately  advanced,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  action 
became  general.  It  lasted  about  two  hours,  and 
was  like  one  continued  peal  of  thunder.  Baum 
made  a  brave  defence  ;  and  the  German  dragoons, 
after  they  had  expended  their  ammunition,  led  by 
their  colonel,  charged  with  their  swords  ;  but  they 
were  soon  overpowei'ed.  Their  works  were  carried 
on  all  sides,  their  two  pieces  of  cannon  were  taken, 
Colonel  Baum  himself  was  mortally  wounded  and 
taken  prisoner,  and  all  his  men,  except  a  few  who 
had  escaped  into  the  woods,  were  either  killed  or 
taken  prisoners.  Having  completed  the  business  by 
taking  the  whole  party,  the  militia  began  to  disperse 
and  look  out  for  plunder.  But  in  a  few  minutes 
Stark  received  information  that  a  large  reenforce- 
ment  was  on  their  march,  and  within  two  miles  of 
him.  Fortunately  at  that  moment  Colonel  "Warner 
came  up  with  his  regiment  from  Manchester.  This 
brave  and  experienced  officer  commanded  a  regi 
ment  of  continental  troops,  which  had  been  raised 
in  Vermont.  Mortified  that  he  had  not  been  in  the 
former  engagement,*  he  instantly  led  on  his  men 
against  Breyman,  and  began  the  second  engage- 

*  This  seems  to  be  a  mistake  as  to  Warner  himself.  He  assisted 
Stark  in  person,  though  his  men  were  not  there.  See  Anecdotes  from 
the  Life  of  General  Stark,  page  163. 


THE  BATTLE    OF    BENNINGTON.  155 

ment.  Stark  collected  the  militia  as  soon  as  possi 
ble,  and  pushed  on  to  his  assistance.  The  action 
became  general,  and  the  battle  continued  obstinate 
on  both  sides  till  sunset,  when  the  Germans  were 
forced  to  give  way,  and  were  pursued  till  dark. 
They  left  their  two  field  pieces  behind,  and  a  con 
siderable  number  were  made  prisoners.  They  re 
treated  in  the  best  manner  they  could,  improving 
the  advantages  of  the  evening  and  night,  to  which 
alone  their  escape  was  ascribed.  .  < 

In  these  actions  the  Americans  took  four  brass 
field  pieces,  twelve  brass  drums,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dragoon  swords,  four  ammunition  wagons,  and 
about  seven  hundred  prisoners,  with  their  arms  and 
accoutrements.  Two  hundred  and  seven  men  were 
found  dead  upon  the  spot ;  the  numbers  of  wounded 
were  unknown.  The  loss  of  the  Americans  was 
but  small ;  thirty  were  slain,  and  about  forty  were 
wounded. 

To  this  account  we  subjoin  the  following  interest 
ing  incident  from  the  Rev.  Grant  Powers's  History 
of  the  Coos  Country. 

Colonel  Charles  Johnston,  of  Haverhill,  N.  H., 
was  a  man  possessing  most  excellent  qualities  of 
mind  and  heart.  His  bravery  and  goodness  were 
celebrated  in  all  the  country  round  ;  and  the  powers 
of  his  body  were  well  proportioned  to  the  greatness 
of  his  heart.  The  following  event  illustrates  both 
his  physical  power  and  his  courage.  At  the  time 
when  the  troops  of  Vermont  and  New  Hampshire 


156       THE  BATTLE  OP  BENNINGTON. 

signalized  themselves  at  the  battle  of  Bennington, 
under  General  Stark,  Colonel  Johnston  was  there, 
and  sustained  a  part  in  the  brilliant  achievements 
of  that  ever-memorable  day.  After  Colonel  Baum 
had  surrendered  to  the  American  troops,  and  the 
battle  was  renewed  by  the  arrival  of  Colonel  Brey- 
man,  Colonel  Johnston,  in  obedience  to  orders  from 
General  Stark,  was  necessitated  to  pass  through  a 
narrow  strip  of  woods  on  foot  and  alone,  to  bear 
some  orders  to  the  other  division  of  the  American 
army.  He  had  no  weapon  of  defence  but  a  stout 
staff,  which  he  had  cut  in  the  woods  that  day,  as  he 
was  passing  on  to  Bennington  from  New  Hampshire. 
Thus  equipped,  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  British 
scout  in  ambush,  placed  there  to  intercept  communi 
cations  between  the  different  divisions  of  the  Amer 
icans.  The  party  in  ambush  was  commanded  by  a 
Hessian  lieutenant.  As  Johnston  came  up,  this 
officer  stepped  forth,  sword  in  hand,  and  claimed 
him  as  his  prisoner.  The  word  was  no  more  than 
uttered  before  the  sword  was  struck  from  the  hand 
of  the  officer  by  Johnston's  staff,  and  as  soon  did 
Johnston  have  possession  of  that  sword,  and  point 
ing  it  at  the  breast  of  the  Hessian,  declared  to  him 
that  he  was  that  moment  a  dead  man  if  he  and  his 
party  did  not  throw  down  their  arms.  The  officer 
turned  to  his  men  and  said,  "  We  are  prisoners  of 
war."  The  soldiers  threw  down  their  arms,  and 
Johnston  marched  them  before  him  to  the  American 
lines,  where  they  were  received  by  our  troops. 
The  colonel  returned  with  the  sword  to  his  fam- 


THE  BATTLE  OF    BENNINGTON.  157 

ily,  and,  presenting  it  to  his  only  son,  Captain 
Michael  Johnston,  said,  "This  sword  was  won  by 
valor  ;  let  it  never  be  retaken  through  cowardice." 
The  sword  was  a  splendid  article  of  the  kind. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  writing  upon  it,  formed 
by  etching,  and  the  officer's  name.  This  sword  was 
brought  forth  and  exhibited  for  the  mournful  grati 
fication  of  spectators  on  the  day  of  the  colonel's 
funeral  solemnities.  Before  his  death  it  was  his  ex 
pressed  wish  that  this  sword  might  descend  from 
him  in  the  line  of  the  oldest  male  heir ;  and  it  is 
now  in  the  possession  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Johns 
ton,  of  the  town  of  Locke,  Cayuga  county,  N.  Y. 
14 


ANECDOTES    FROM    THE    LIFE    OF    GEN 
ERAL    STARK. 

GENERAL  JOHN  STARK,  the  hero  of  the  battle  of 
Bennington,  was  a  native  of  Londonderry,  in  New 
Hampshire,  and  was  born  August  17,  1728.  His 
life  was  throughout  one  of  great  hardship  and  ad 
venture.  When  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  years,  he 
was  captured  by  the  Indians,  while  on  a  fishing  and 
hunting  excursion.  This  happened  in  the  following 
manner  :  — 

John  Stark,  his  brother  William,  and  two  others 
were  camping  out  near  the  Connecticut  River.  In 
the  excitement  of  the  chase,  John  had  wandered 
quite  a  distance  from  his  companions,  when  sud 
denly  he  was  surprised  and  seized  by  a  party  of  ten 
savages.  Of  course  resistance  was  vain,  and  he 
quietly  gave  himself  up  into  their  hands.  On  their 
demanding  information  about  his  companions,  he 
directed  them  to  a  point  opposite  to  their  real  posi 
tion,  and  thus  succeeded  in  leading  the  savages  two 
miles  out  of  the  way.  His  associates,  not  knowing 
the  cause  of  his  absence,  and  thinking  that  he  had 
wandered  so  far  from  them  that  he  could  not  readily 
find  his  way  back,  unfortunately  fired  a  number  of 
guns  as  a  signal.  This  of  course  made  their  posi- 

(158) 


ANECDOTES  FROM  THE  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  STARK.    159 

tion  known  to  the  Indians.  They  immediately 
retraced  their  course,  and  stealthily  approached  the 
unsuspecting  hunters.  But  their  plans  were  disar 
ranged  by  the  boldness  and  intrepidity  of  Stark. 
As  soon  as  they  approached  within  hailing  distance, 
he  shouted  to  his  comrades  to  run  for  their  lives  ; 
and  they  lost  no  time  in  commencing  a  rapid  retreat. 
Instantly  four  of  his  captors  levelled  their  pieces  at 
the  three  Yankees  ;  but  as  quick  as  thought  Stark 
struck  up  the  guns  of  two  of  them,  and  by  this 
means  his  brother  William,  who  was  one  of  the 
party,  was  able  to  make  his  escape.  For  this  bold 
action  John  received  a  severe  beating. 

When  the  Indians  arrived  at  the  village  of  St. 
Francis,  the  spirit  and  deportment  of  Stark  gained 
him  the  admiration  of  all  the  warriors.  The  cap 
tives  were  compelled  to  run  the  gantlet.  The  one  or 
two  who  preceded  Stark  received  very  cruel  treat 
ment  ;  but  this  intrepid  youth,  wrenching  a  tomahawk 
from  the  Indian  who  stood  first  in  the  line,  fell  with 
such  fury  upon  every  one  who  attempted  to  strike 
him,  that  he  arrived  at  the  end  of  his  race  completely 
untouched. 

On  another  occasion  they  set  Stark  at  work  hoe 
ing  corn.  Well  knowing  that  they  considered  this 
an  occupation  unfit  for  brave  men,  he  endeavored 
to  show  his  ignorance  of  such  work  by  leaving  the 
weeds  and  hoeing  up  the  corn.  Finding  them  dis 
pleased  at  this,  lie  flung  the  hoe  into  the  river,  ex 
claiming  that  "  hoeing  corn  was  work  for  squaws, 
and  not  for  brave  warriors."  At  this  they  broke 


160  ANECDOTES  FROM  THE  LIFE 

out  in  undisguised  applause.  He  was  styled  "  young 
chief,"  and  was  honored  with  an  adoption  into  the 
tribe.  He  remained  among  them  but  four  months. 

In  the  French  war,  Stark  was  lieutenant  in  Major 
Rogers's  company  of  rangers.  In  the  month  of  Jan 
uary,  1757,  Major  Rogers  with  his  men  were  ordered 
to  proceed  from  Fort  William  Henry,  where  they 
were  then  stationed,  on  a  scout  towards  Fort  Ticon- 
deroga,  on  Lake  Champlain.  Proceeding  down 
Lake  George  on  the  ice,  they  came  on  the  third  day 
to  Lake  Champlain.  There  they  captured  some 
provision  sleds  out  of  a  train  belonging  to  the 
enemy,  and  took  a  few  prisoners.  Fearing  that  the 
large  garrison  at  Ticonderoga  would  be  apprised 
of  his  proximity  by  those  who  escaped,  the  rangers 
immediately  began  to  retrace  their  steps  towards 
Fort  William  Henry.  As  they  were  marching  in 
single  file,  on  account  of  the  deep  snow,  across  the 
neck  of  land  which  divides  Lake  George  from  Lake 
Champlain,  the  advance  came  unexpectedly  upon 
two  hundred  of  the  enemy's  troops,  drawn  up  in 
battle  array.  In  an  instant  a  tremendous  volley 
was  poured  upon  them  by  the  French.  Stunned  by 
this  sudden  and  unlooked-for  attack,  they  turned 
and  rushed  back  to  the  rear.  Stark,  with  his  usual 
promptness,  instantly  formed  his  men  upon  a  ridge, 
ten  or  fifteen  rods  distant  from  the  enemy's  posi 
tion.  Early  in  the  action  Major  Rogers  was  disa 
bled  by  a  wound  from  exercising  the  command,  and 
the  responsibility  devolved  upon  Stark.  He  was 
equal  to  the  emergency.  Where  the  balls  flew 


OF   GENERAL  STARK.  161 

thickest,  there  he  stood,  encouraging  and  cheering 
on  his  men  to  their  duty.  The  battle  began  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  for  four  hours  they 
stood  their  ground,  in  snow  four  feet  in  depth,  upon 
one  of  the  coldest  of  winter's  chilly  days.  Although 
they  were  apprehensive  that  the  keen  evening  air 
would  be  as  fearful  an  enemy  as  the  troops  in  their 
front,  yet,  animated  by  the  unflinching  spirit  of 
their  leader,  they  stirred  not  from  their  places  until 
night  had  thrown  her  sable  mantle  over  the  wild 
forest,  and  the  enemy  had  abandoned  the  field.  The 
blood  of  half  the  French  troops  crimsoned  the 
trampled  snow.  The  bodies  of  the  slain  lay  where 
they  fell,  and  stiffened  in  the  cold  blasts  of  the 
north  wind.  Forty-eight  of  the  rangers  remained 
unhurt,  and  these,  with  the  wounded,  dragged  them 
selves  through  the  snow  to  the  shore  of  Lake 
George.  They  arrived  here  at  dawn,  in  a  state  of 
utter  exhaustion.  Stark,  with  two  other  brave  men, 
volunteered  to  go  to  Fort  William  Henry,  at  the 
southern  end  of  the  lake,  and  procure  sleds,  on 
which  to  transport  the  wounded.  The  lake  is 
thirty-six  miles  in  length,  and  they  travelled  this 
distance  upon  the  ice,  reaching  the  fort  about  dark. 
They  immediately  started  on  their  return  with  the 
sleds,  travelled  all  night,  and  brought  back  the 
wounded  to  the  fort  at  the  close  of  the  next  day. 
Stark  himself  assisted  to  draw  the  sleds.  Truly 
immense  must  Stark's  power  of  endurance  have 
been,  thus  to  enable  him  to  pass  three  days  and  two 
nights  in  the  most  violent  and  unremitted  exertion. 


162  ANECDOTES  FROM  THE  LIFE 

Had  it  not  been  for  his  indomitable  resolution  and 
perseverance,  it  is  probable  that  not  one  of  his  com 
pany  would  have  returned  to  the  fort  to  communi 
cate  the  melancholy  news  of  his  comrades'  destruc 
tion.  At  the  close  of  this  war  he  retired  with  the 
reputation  of  a  brave  and  vigilant  officer. 

When  the  revolutionary  war  broke  out,  Stark  was 
carrying  on  a  saw  mill.  Fired  by  the  news  of  the 
battle  of  Lexington,  he  abandoned  his  work,  and 
proceeded  at  once  to  the  continental  army,  near 
Boston.  The  morning  after  his  arrival  he  received 
a  colonel's  commission  ;  and  so  great  was  his  popu 
larity,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  day,  that  in  two 
hours  he  succeeded  in  enlisting  eight  hundred  men. 
On  the  memorable  17th  of  June,  Stark,  with  his 
New  Hampshire  backwoodsmen,  was  engaged  in  the 
terrible  battle  of  Bunker  Hill ;  and  the  deadly  fire 
of  these  sure  marksmen,  and  the  invincible  courage 
of  their  leader,  did  much  towards  securing  a  favor 
able  termination  to  that  bloody  conflict.  He  occu 
pied  an  important  place  in  several  other  battles ; 
but  he  reached  the  climax  of  his  fame,  when,  in  one 
of  the  darkest  and  most  desponding  periods  of  the 
American  war,  he  achieved  a  glorious  victory  over 
the  enemy  at  Bennington. 

As  a  full  description  of  this  engagement  will  be 
found  in  another  place,  it  is  not  our  intention  now 
to  give  any  lengthened  sketch  of  it,  but  merely  to 
relate  some  incidents  in  which  our  hero  was  partic 
ularly  concerned. 

On  the  morning  of  the  battle,  Stark,  who  was 


OF  GENERAL  STARK.  163 

encamped  about  two  miles  distant  from  the  enemy, 
rode  forward  with  Warner,  colonel  of  the  Vermont 
regiment,  to  reconnoitre  the  position  of  his  oppo 
nents.  As  they  stopped  to  make  observations,  the 
report  of  a  cannon  was  heard,  and  a  heavy  ball 
plunged  past,  ploughing  the  earth  as  it  went.  Stark 
looked  at  it  coolly,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  Those 
rascals  know  I  am  an  officer ;  don't  you  see  they 
honor  me  with  a  salute  from  a  big  gun  ?  " 

Nothing  could  be  more  characteristic  of  Stark 
than  his  speech  to  his  men  on  leading  them  in  sight 
of  the  enemy's  troops.  "Boys,"  cried  he,  as  he 
pointed  with  his  sword  to  the  bayonets  which 
gleamed  from  the  high  ground  opposite,  "boys, 
those  are  your  enemies  —  the  red  coats  and  tories ! 
We  must  conquer  them,  or  to-night  Molly  Stark  is  a 
widow  !  "  Victory  or  death  was  the  only  sentiment 
which  possessed  his  intrepid  heart ;  and  this  feeling 
indeed  was  not  confined  to  him,  but  pervaded  the 
breasts  of  all  those  who  came  to  fight  at  his  side  for 
the  liberty  of  their  homes  and  their  country.  Such 
was  the  spirit  that  carried  them  through  one  of  the 
hardest  and  most  fiercely  contested  battles  that 
occurred  during  the  war  of  the  revolution.  They 
not  only  defeated  the  disciplined  force  that  pre 
sented  itself  at  first,  but  also  an  equally  large  ree'n- 
forcement  which  arrived  while  the  American  troops 
were  scattered  in  pursuit  of  their  defeated  foe,  thus 
taking  them  at  a  disadvantage.  In  his  official 
report,  Stark  thus  speaks  of  the  first  portion  of  the 
engagement :  "  It  lasted  two  hours,  and  was  the 


164  ANECDOTES  FROM  THE  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  STARK. 

hottest  I  ever  saw.  It  was  like  one  continued  clap 
of  thunder." 

Stark  was  acting  at  this  time  under  the  authority 
of  the  State  of  New  Hampshire  ;  but  after  this 
brilliant  victory,  Congress  hastened  to  show  its  ap 
preciation  of  his  distinguished  services.  They  be 
stowed  upon  him  without  delay  the  rank  of  briga 
dier  general  in  the  army  of  the  United  States.  Thus 
ever  ready  was  Congress  to  recognize  and  reward 
service  done  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  though  not  in 
lines  marked  out  by  itself. 

General  Stark  after  this  volunteered  his  services 
under  General  Gates  at  Saratoga,  and  assisted  in 
the  council  which  stipulated  for  the  surrender  of 
Burgoyne  ;  nor  did  he  cease  his  valuable  services 
till  he  could  greet  his  native  country  as  an  inde 
pendent  nation. 

General  Stark  was  of  middle  stature,  not  formed 
by  nature  to  exhibit  an  erect  soldierly  mien.  His 
manners  were  frank  and  unassuming ;  but  he  mani 
fested  a  peculiar  sort  of  eccentricity  and  negligence, 
which  precluded  all  display  of  personal  dignity,  and 
seemed  to  place  him  among  those  of  ordinary  rank 
in  life.  But  as  a  courageous  and  heroic  soldier,  he 
is  entitled  to  high  rank  among  those  who  have  been 
crowned  with  unfading  laurels,  and  to  whom  a  large 
share  of  glory  is  justly  due.  His  character  as  a 
private  citizen  was  unblemished,  and  he  was  ever 
held  in  respect.  He  lived  to  the  advanced  age  of 
ninety-three  years,  eight  months,  and  twenty-four 
days,  and  died  May  8,  1822. 


AN  ACT  OF   COURAGE. 

FROM  REV.   G.  POWERS'S   "HISTORY  OF  THE  COOS  COUNTRY-" 
1777. 

IT  will  be  recollected  by  those  who  are  acquaint 
ed  with  the  history  of  the  war  of  the  revolution, 
that  as  soon  as  the  battle  was  fought  at  Bennington, 
and  the  Americans  began  to  hope  that  Burgoyne's 
army  would  fall  into  their  hands,  they  set  about 
retaking  the  forts  of  Ticonderoga  and  Mount  Inde 
pendence,  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain,  which 
forts  Burgoyne  had  left  in  his  rear,  supplied  with 
troops  for  their  defence.  Ticonderoga  was  taken, 
and  Mount  Independence  was  straitly  besieged  for 
some  time.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  hard  fight 
ing,  and  it  was  confidently  expected  that  Mount  Inde 
pendence  would  surrender  ;  but  it  did  not. 

The  British  shipping  had  full  possession  of  the 
lake.  Ticonderoga  was  upon  the  west  side  of  the 
lake,  and  Mount  Independence  on  the  east.  Our 
troops  on  the  west  side  could  hold  no  communica 
tion  with  those  who  had  invested  Mount  Independ 
ence,  and  of  course  they  could  have  no  concert  in 
action.  It  was  at  this  time,  when  the  greatest 
solicitude  was  felt  by  the  two  American  command- 

(165) 


166  AN  ACT  OF  COURAGE. 

ers  to  know  each  other's  minds,  that  the  following 
expedient  was  adopted  by  the  commander  at  Ticon- 
deroga.  He  called  on  his  men  to  know  if  there 
were  any  two  of  them  who  would  volunteer  to  swim 
the  lake  in  the  evening,  and  carry  despatches  to 
General  Lincoln,  near  Mount  Independence.  For  a 
time  none  offered  to  undertake  the  hazardous  enter 
prise  ;  but  when  informed  how  much  was  probably 
depending  upon  it,  Wallace,  of  Thetford,  Vt., 
stepped  forward  and  said  he  would  attempt  it ;  and 
then  followed  him  Ephraim  Webster,  of  Newbury, 
who  originated  in  New  Chester,  N.  H. 

The  documents  were  made  out,  and  about  sundown 
an  officer  took  these  two  men  upon  an  eminence 
which  overlooked  the  lake,  and  pointed  out  to  them 
the  course  they  must  take  to  avoid  discovery  by  the 
British  shipping,  and  then  where  they  would  prob 
ably  find  the  American  camp.  At  dusk  of  evening 
the  same  officer  attended  them  to  the  margin  of  the 
lake,  assisted  them  to  prepare  for  the  voyage,  and 
saw  them  set  sail,  little  expecting  ever  to  hear  from 
them  again  ;  for  as  they  had  to  swim  up  and  down 
the  lake,  in  a  zigzag  course,  to  avoid  the  enemy, 
they  must  swim  more  than  two  miles  before  they 
could  make  terra  firraa  ;  and  it  was  so  late  in  the 
season,  the  water  was  quite  cold.  They  rolled  their 
despatches  in  their  clothes,  and  bound  them  upon 
the  back  part  of  their  neck  by  cords  passing  round 
their  foreheads.  As  soon  as  they  entered  the  water, 
Wallace  said  to  Webster,  "  We  shall  never  reach 


AN  ACT  OP  COURAGE.  167 

shore,  it  is  so  cold  ; "  but  this  he  said  without  any 
thought  of  relinquishing  the  enterprise. 

When  about  midway  of  the  lake,  the  cord  which 
fastened  Wallace's  clothes  to  his  neck  slipped  down 
from  his  forehead  to  his  throat,  and  cut  him  so 
hard  as  almost  to  strangle  him.  He  made  several 
attempts  to  replace  the  string  upon  his  forehead, 
but  failed,  and  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  all 
for  lost.  The  thought,  however,  of  the  importance 
of  his  undertaking  seemed  to  inspire  him  with  new 
life  and  vigor,  and  he  succeeded  in  replacing  the 
string,  and  passed  on  without  saying  a  word  to  dis 
hearten  Webster.  They  passed  so  near  the  British 
shipping  as  to  hear  the  oft-repeated  cry,  "All's 
well ! "  They  took  no  care  to  contradict  that 
report,  but  buflfeted  the  waves  with  stout  hearts 
and  sinewy  limbs.  They  kept  in  company  until 
they  came  near  the  eastern  shore  of  the  lake,  when 
Webster  seemed  to  fall  into  the  rear,  a  few  rods  at 
the  north  of  Wallace  ;  and  just  as  Wallace  struck 
the  twigs  of  a  tree  which  lay  extended  into  the 
lake,  he  heard  Webster  say,  "  Help,  Wallace  ;  I  am 
drowning !  "  Wallace  sprang  to  the  shore,  caught 
a  stick,  rushed  into  the  water,  and  extended  it 
to  Webster  in  the  act  of  sinking,  and  drew  him 
ashore.  Webster  could  not  stand ;  but  Wallace 
rubbed  him  briskly,  and  put  on  his  clothes,  and  he 
soon  recovered  so  as  to  walk.  Webster  was  so  full 
of  expressions  of  gratitude  to  Wallace  for  the  pres 
ervation  of  his  life,  that  Wallace  had  to  caution 


168  AN    ACT  OF   COURAGE. 

him  not  to  speak  so  loud,  for  the  enemy  would  hear 
them. 

But  new  difficulties  now  presented  themselves. 
It  was  dark,  and  they  were  in  a  strange  place.  The 
enemy  was  near,  and  had  their  sentinels  on  shore,  as 
well  as  the  Americans  ;  and  what  was  worst  of  all, 
they  knew  not  the  countersign  of  the  Americans  on 
that  side  of  the  lake.  They  started,  however,  in 
quest  of  the  American  camp,  and  after  travelling 
about  nearly  one  hour,  they  were  hailed  by  a  Brit 
ish  sentinel,  and  did  but  just  make  their  escape. 
They  then  took  a  different  direction,  and  Wallace 
gave  both  despatches  into  Webster's  hands,  and 
told  him  to  keep  in  the  rear,  and  he  would  go  for 
ward  ;  and  if  he  should  happen  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy,  Webster  might  have  opportu 
nity  to  escape  with  the  despatches.  But  they  had 
not  proceeded  a  great  way  before  Wallace  was 
hailed  by  a  sentinel  —  "  Who  comes  there  ?  "  "A 
friend,"  says  Wallace.  "  A  friend  to  whom  ?  "  says 
the  sentinel.  "  Advance,  and  give  the  countersign." 
This  was  a  fearful  moment.  Wallace  hesitated  for 
an  instant,  and  then  replied,  by  way  of  question, 
"  Whose  friend  are  you  ?  "  The  sentinel  responded, 
"  A  friend  to  America."  "  So  am  I,"  said  Wallace, 
"  and  have  important  despatches  for  your  general." 
They  were  immediately  conducted  to  the  general's 
quarters,  the  despatches  were  delivered,  and  Wal 
lace  and  Webster  were  received  with  every  mark 
of  surprise  and  gratitude,  and  every  thing  was  done 
to  render  them  comfortable  and  happy.  But  Wai- 


AN  ACT   OP   COURAGE.  169 

lace  never  enjoyed  the  degree  of  health  afterwards 
that  he  did  prior  to  that  chill  and  almost  incredi 
ble  effort.  Wallace  departed  this  life  February  7, 
1833,  aged  eighty.  Mrs.  Wallace  died  May,  1831, 
aged  eighty-one. 

Webster's  subsequent  history  is  worthy  of  a  pass 
ing  notice.  At  the  time  he  visited  Newbury  last, 
he  was  residing  among  the  Oneida  Indians,  New 
York.  They  had  adopted  him  as  their  brother, 
promoted  him  to  be  chief  in  their  tribe,  and,  to  ren 
der  the  tie  indissoluble,  they  had  given  him  for  a 
wife  one  of  the  black-haired  maidens  of  the  forest. 
Webster's  health  was  not  permanently  injured  by 
his  dangerous  adventure. 
15 


THE  OLD   MAN   OF  THE  MOUNTAIN. 

FROM  AN  ADMIRABLE  POEM  BY  "H.,"  ORIGINALLY  PUBLISHED 
IN  THE  DEMOCRATIC  REVIEW  OF  APRIL,  1839.  SEE  FRONTIS 
PIECE. 

WHERE  a  tall  post  beside  the  road  displays 
Its  lettered  arm,  pointing  the  traveller's  eye 
Through  the  small  opening  rmid  the  green  birch 

trees, 

Towards  yonder  mountain  summit  towering  nigh, 
There  pause  ;  what  doth  thy  anxious  gaze  espy  ? 
An  abrupt  crag  hung  from  the  mountain's  brow ! 
Look  closer  ;  scan  that  bare  sharp  cliff  on  high  ; 
Aha !  the  wondrous  shape  bursts  on  thee  now  — 
A  perfect  human  face  —  neck,  chin,  mouth,  nose,  and 

brow  ! 

And  full  and  plain  those  features  are  displayed, 
Thus  profiled  forth  against  the  clear  blue  sky, 
As  though  some  sculptor rs  chisel  here  had  made 
This  fragment  of  colossal  imagery, 
The  compass  of  his  plastic  art  to  try. 
From  the  curved  neck  up  to  the  shaggy  hair 
That  shoots  in  pine  trees  from  the  head  on  high, 
All,  all  is  perfect ;  no  illusions  there, 
To  cheat  the  expecting  eye  with  fancied  forms  of  air. 

(170) 


THE  OLD  MAN  OP  THE  MOUNTAIN.      171 

Most  wondrous  vision  !  the  broad  earth  hath  not 
Through  all  her  bounds  an  object  like  to  thee, 
That  travellers  e'er  recorded,  nor  a  spot 
More  fit  to  stir  the  poet's  phantasy  ; 
Gray  OLD  MAN  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN,  awfully 
There  from  thy  wreath  of  clouds  thou  dost  uprear 
Those  features  grand  —  the  same  eternally  ; 
Lone  dweller  Jmid  the  hills,  with  gaze  austere, 
Thou  lookest  down,  methinks,  on  all  below  thee  here. 

And  curious  travellers  have  descried  the  trace 
Of  the  sage  FRANKLIN'S  physiognomy 
In  that  most  grave  and  philosophic  face  : 
If  it  be  true,  Old  Man,  that  here  we  see 
Sage  Franklin's  countenance,  thou  indeed  must  be 
A  learned  philosopher,  most  wise  and  staid, 
From  all  that  thou  hast  had  a  chance  to  see, 
Since  earth  began  ;  here  thou,  too,  oft  hast  played 
With  lightnings  glancing  frequent  round  thy  rugged 
head. 

Thou  saw'st  the  tawny  Indian's  light  canoe 
Glide  o'er  the  pond  that  glistens  at  thy  feet, 
And  the  white  hunter  first  emerge  to  view 
From  up  yon  ravine,  where  the  mountains  meet, 
To  scare  the  red  man  from  his  ancient  seat, 
Where  he  had  roamed  for  ages,  wild  and  free. 
The  motley  stream  which  since  from  every  state 
And  clime  through  this  wild  vale  pours  ceaselessly, 
Travellers,  gay  tourists,  all  have  been  a  theme  to 
thee. 


172  THE   OLD    MAN   OP    THE   MOUNTAIN. 

In  thee  the  simple-minded  Indian  saw 
The  image  of  his  more  benignant  God, 
And  viewed  with  deep  and  reverential  awe 
The  spot  where  the  GREAT  SPIRIT  made  abode  ; 
When   storms  obscured  thee,  and  red  lightnings 

glowed 
From  the   dark  clouds  oft  gathered  round  thy 

face, 

He  saw  thy  form  in  anger  veiled,  nor  rowed 
His  birchen  bark,  nor  sought  the  wild  deer  chase, 
Till  thy  dark  frown  had  passed,  and  sunshine  filled 

its  place. 

0   that  some  bard  would   rise  —  true  heir  of 

glory,  — 

With  the  full  power  of  heavenly  poesy, 
To  gather  up  each  old  romantic  story 
That  lingers  round  these  scenes  in  memory, 
And  consecrate  to  immortality  ; 
Some  western  Scott,  within  whose  bosom  thrills 
That  fire  which  burneth  to  eternity  — 
To  pour  his  spirit  o'er  these  mighty  hills, 
And  make  them  classic  ground,  thrice  hallowed  by 

his  spells. 

But  backward   turn ;    the  wondrous  shape  hath 

gone; 

The  round  hill  towers  before  thee,  smoothly  green  ; 
Pass  but  a  few  short  paces  further  on, 
Nought  but  the  ragged  mountain  side  is  seen  ; 
Thus  oft  do  earthly  things  delude,  I  ween, 


THE  OLD  MAN  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN.      173 

That  in  prospective  glitter  bright  and  fair, 
While  time,  or  space,  or  labor  intervene  ; 
Approach  them,  every  charm  dissolves  to  air ; 
Each  gorgeous  hue  hath  fled,  and  all  is  rude  and  bare. 
15* 


THE   NEW  HAMPSHIRE   RANGERS. 

ORIGINAL.       F.  C. 

AMONG  all  the  men  who  were  engaged  during 
those  early  times  when  unflinching  courage  and  firm 
self-reliance  were  the  only  assurances  of  safety  in 
battling  for  their  own  existence  and  that  of  the 
dear  ones  who  clustered  around  their  firesides,  there 
were  none,  from  one  end  of  the  American  shores 
to  the  other,  whose  brave  and  daring  spirit  was 
held  in  so  much  repute  as  was  that  of  the  New 
Hampshire  Rangers.  Thoroughly  inured  to  the 
hardships  of  a  frontier  life,  and  initiated  by  experi 
ence  into  all  the  stratagems  of  border  warfare,  they 
made  soldiers,  when  it  became  time  for  them  to  take 
the  gun  in  hand,  that  friends  could  depend  upon, 
and  that  enemies  could  not  but  fear.  This  fact  has 
been  attested  by  every  engagement  in  which  these 
troops  took  any  part.  It  is  only  necessary  to  men 
tion  the  well-known  battles  of  Bunker  Hill  and 
Bennington,  and  the  capture  of  Ticonderoga,  to 
enable  the  reader  to  draw  his  own  conclusions. 

The  incident  which  the  writer  is  about  to  narrate 
is  but  another  testimony  to  the  same  fact  —  the 

(174) 


THE   NEW   HAMPSHIRE   RANGERS,  175 

most  of  it  a  family  tradition,  which  now  for  the 
first  time  takes  its  place  upon  the  historic  page. 

In  the  year  1755,  the  second  from  the  beginning 
of  the  old  French  war,  Baron  Dieskau,  a  brave  and 
experienced  officer,  was  ordered  to  proceed  from 
Canada  up  Lake  Champlain,  and  to  seize,  if  possible, 
the  English  posts  upon  that  lake  and  Lake  George. 
To  effect  that  purpose  he  took  with  him  a  strong 
detachment  t)f  French  regulars,  Canadians,  and  In 
dians,  amounting  in  all  to  eighteen  hundred  men. 
Before  any  part  of  his  object  had  been  accomplished, 
however,  he  engaged  in  battle  with  General  William. 
Johnson,  upon  the  banks  of  Lake  George,  was  en 
tirely  defeated,  and  himself  received  a  mortal 
wound.  Such  of  his  men  as  were  able  to  make 
their  escape  retreated  to  a  place  about  four  miles 
from  the  battle  field,  and  there  encamped. 

In  the  mean  time  a  party  consisting  of  two  hun 
dred  New  Hampshire  Rangers  had  been  despatched 
from  Fort  Edward  to  assist  the  main  body  of  pro 
vincials  under  General  Johnson.  This  party  was 
commanded  by  Captain  McGinness,  of  New  Hamp 
shire,  a  capable  and  vigilant  officer.  Proceeding 
cautiously  through  the  woods,  the  scouts  in  advance 
discovered  the  French  and  Canadian  soldiers  in 
their  camp,  numbering  several  hundreds.  The 
Rangers  were  speedily  informed  of  the  proximity 
of  their  foe,  and  though  greatly  outnumbered,  their 
intrepid  hearts  would  not  allow  them  to  retreat. 
They  determined  to  attack  ;  and  as  the  word  was 
given  to  advance,  each  man  seized  his  firelock  with 


176  THE   NEW   HAMPSHIRE    RANGERS. 

firmer  grasp,  and  moved  on  steadily  and  in  order. 
It  was  now  afternoon,  and  the  French  officers  were 
in  the  centre  of  the  camp,  engaged  in  consultation 
as  to  how  they  might  make  the  best  of  their  disas 
trous  condition,  and  get  back  to  Canada  in  the 
quickest  possible  manner.  The  men  were  standing 
about,  some  cooking,  some  arranging  their  muskets 
and  accoutrements,  when  the  sentinels,  who  had  not 
perceived  the  cautious  approach  of  the  Rangers  till 
they  were  close  upon  them,  gave  the  alarm.  They 
sprang  to  arms  with  all  the  energy  of  desperation. 
But  the  movements  of  the  hardy  sons  of  New  Hamp 
shire  were  far  too  rapid  to  allow  them  to  farm  in 
battle  array. 

Hardly  had  the  warning  shout  of  the  sentinels 
rung  through  the  camp  when  it  Was  followed  by  a 
huzza  which  made  the  welkin  ring  again,  and  in  an 
instant  the  bold  Rangers  poured  in  upon  them  with 
so  fierce  an  onset  that  neither  Canadians,  French 
men,  nor  Indians  could  stand  against  them  for  a 
moment.  All  order  and  subordination  were  of 
course  destroyed.  Every  man  fought  for  himself, 
as  best  he  could  —  some  from  behind  trees,,  some 
from  rocks,  some  lying  at  length  behind  little  pieces 
of  rising  ground,  firing  in  terror  or  in  random  and 
desperate  fury.  From  their  superior  numbers  they 
might  even  then  have  gained  the  victory  ;  but  tho 
New  Hampshire  men  understood  this  kind  of  fight 
ing  even  better  than  they,  and  having  once  put  their 
hand  to  the  work  they  would  never  turn  back. 
Selecting  their  stations  with  a  practised  eye>  they 


THE  NEW  HAMPSHIRE  BANGERS.       177 

maintained  the  contest  with  unabated  vigor,  fight 
ing  man  to  man,  or  sending  their  unerring  bullets 
wherever  a  head  or  part  of  a  body  offered  a  mark 
for  their  deadly  aim. 

Two  hours  passed  on,  and  the  battle  raged  as 
fiercely  as  ever.  The  forests  still  rang  loudly  with 
the  reports  of  muskets,  the  cheers  of  the  provin 
cials,  and  the  yells  and  shouts  of  the  savages  and 
the  French.  The  blue  smoke  grew  thicker  as  it 
curled  slowly  up  among  the  trees,  and  the  sun,  as  it 
went  downward  in  the  heavens,  sent  a  darker  shade 
from  the  thick  foliage  over  the  heads  of  the  com 
batants.  Yet  the  fight  went  on,  and  neither  party 
had  secured  the  advantage.  The  intrepidity  and 
skill  of  the  rangers  were  an  equal  match  for  the  num 
bers  of  their  foe.  Neither  was  inclined  to  yield. 

At  last,  however,  the  tide  of  victory  was  turned 
completely  in  favor  of  the  Americans  by  a  ruse  of 
their  able  commander.  The  drummer  and  fifer  of 
the  company  had.,  at  the  beginning  of  the  battle, 
laid  themselves  down  for  safety  behind  a  large  log, 
at  some  little  distance  in  the  rear  of  their  com 
rades.  Captain  McGinness,  observing  this,  cau 
tiously  approached  them,  and  gave  directions  that 
at  a  given  signal  from  him  they  should  rise  up  and 
vigorously  ply  their  instruments.  He  then  quietly 
returned  to  his  place,  and  gave  the  pre-concerted 
sign.  The  musicians  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  their 
lusty  efforts  soon  made  the  woods  reecho  with  the 
martial  sounds.  "  A  reenforcement ! "  shouted  Cap 
tain  McGinness;  "men,  to  your  work!"  Right 


178  THE   NEW   HAMPSHIRE  BANGERS. 

and  left  caught  up  the  words,  and  the  cry  of  "  Re- 
enforcements  !  reinforcements  ! "  animated  the  hearts 
and  gave  new  vigor  to  the  arms  of  the  provincials, 
while  it  sent  terror  to  the  hearts  of  their  opponents. 
Panic-stricken  at  the  sounds,  they  could  no  longer 
stand  their  ground.  They  rushed  headlong  from 
their  places,  and  fled  through  the  woods  in  the  wild 
est  disorder  and  dismay  —  the  polished  Frenchman 
and  the  savage  striving  only  as  to  which  should 
get  first  from  the  presence  of  their  dreaded  foe. 
The  Rangers  followed  them  with  vigor,  but  the  pur 
suit  was  short,  for  darkness  soon  put  a  stop  to  the 
prospect  of  accomplishing  any  thing  among  the  tan 
gled  under-brush.  And  thus,  under  cover  of  night, 
the  French  and  Indians  got  away  as  best  they  could. 

The  Rangers  found,  on  calling  the  roll,  that  they 
had  lost  but  twelve  men,  while  the  ground  was 
strewed  with  the  dead  bodies  of  the  enemy. 

The  writer  cannot  forbear  to  add  an  interesting 
incident  that  occurred  during  this  battle.  One 
Jonathan  Chase,  of  Hopkinton,  N.  H.,  an  expert 
marksman,  had  located  himself  somewhere  near  the 
centre  of  the  belligerents.  In  the  course  of  the 
action  he  was  led  to  notice  a  large  stump,  nearly 
opposite  him,  a  little  in  advance  of  the  main  body 
of  the  enemy.  From  this  a  shot  was  fired  at  inter 
vals,  and  almost  always  to  the  injury  of  some  one 
of  his  comrades.  Looking  carefully  at  the  stump; 
he  discovered  a  knot  hole  in  the  front  of  it,  through 
which  presently  the  muzzle  of  a  musket  was  pushed, 
and,  after  a  moment's  delay,  discharged.  As  quick 


THE  NEW  HAMPSHIRE  BANGERS.  179 

as  thought  Chase's  plan  was  laid.  Knowing  that 
the  savage  would  desire  to  learn  the  effect  of  his 
shot,  he  levelled  his  musket,  waited  an  instant,  then 
sent  his  bullet  straight  through  the  aperture.  A 
faint  yell  reached  his  ear,  and  the  body  of  a  huge 
savage  rose  from  the  stump,  and  fell  heavily  to  the 
ground.  The  work  of  death  was  as  sure  as  it  was 
speedy. 

When  the  enemy  were  seized  with  panic,  Chase 
followed  them,  and  passing  "the  body  of  his  foe, 
snatched  from  his  pack  a  wooden  hominy-spoon 
which  hung  outside.  He  then  observed  that  the 
stump  was  hollowed  out  like  a  tray,  thus  afford 
ing  its  occupant  protection.  The  only  opening  was 
that  which  the  Indian  had  used  as  a  port  hole,  and 
through  which  the  bullet  of  the  keen-eyed  marksman 
had  entered.  The  Indian  was  shot  through  the 
brain,  the  ball  having  entered  just  above  the  right 
eye. 

The  wooden  spoon  was  carried  home,  and  remained 
long  in  the  family  as  a  valued  relic.  It  was  a  curi 
ous  specimen  of  savage  workmanship,  much  orna 
mented,  and  having  the  figure  of  an  Indian  carved 
upon  the  handle.  The  bowl  was  large,  and  a  pro 
jection  on  the  handle  served  for  a  sort  of  pedestal 
for  the  Indian  figure,  which  was  in  a  sitting  posture, 
the  elbows  resting  on  the  knees,  and  the  hands  hold 
ing  to  the  mouth  a  water  bottle,  from  which  he  was 
drinking. 

This  spoon  was  an  object  of  great  interest  to  the 


180       THE  NEW  HAMPSHIRE  RANGERS. 

youngsters  of  the  family  ;  and  when  the  head  of  its 
brave  winner  was  silvered  with  age,  it  was  his  de 
light,  as  well  as  theirs,  to  have  them  gather  around 
him  on  a  winter  evening,  and  ask  him  to  tell  over 
again  the  story  of  the  wooden  spoon. 


\ 


THE  BURNING   OF  ROYALTON. 

THE  following  account  is  taken  as  it  stands  from 
a  book  published  more  than  fifty  years  ago.  It  was 
written  by  Zadoc  Steele,  who  was  taken  and  carried 
captive  by  the  enemy  at  the  time  of  the  attack,  and 
who  afterwards  escaped  and  returned  through  great 
suffering  and  privation  to  his  home  and  friends.  It 
may  therefore  be  relied  upon  as  a  faithful  account 
of  the  scenes  it  describes.  At  the  first  reading,  the* 
editor  took  his  pencil  in  his  hand  to  correct  some 
inaccuracies  of  style  which  met  his  eye  ;  but  finding 
that  one  alteration  would  lead  to  many  more,  and 
that  in  endeavoring  to  improve  the  style  he  would 
be  likely  to  destroy  the  vivid  and  graphic  character 
which  an  eye  witness  had  impressed  upon  the  ac 
count,  he  determined  to  insert  the  whole  story  in 
its  original  dress.  For  pathos  and  copiousness  of 
language  the  author  could  hardly  be  excelled.  Had 
he  possessed  a  thorough  education,  no  doubt  he 
would  have  stood  equal,  if  not  superior,  in  these 
respects,  even  to  the  two  famous  historians  of  Napo 
leon  the  Great  which  our  own  times  have  produced. 

As  a  union  of  interest  always  strengthens  the 
bonds  of  affection,  so  a  participation  in  extreme 

16  (181) 


182  BURNING   OP  ROYALTON. 

sufferings  will  never  fail  to  produce  a  mutual  sensi 
bility.  Prompted  by  a  generous  glow  of  filial  love 
and  affection,  we  generally  take  delight  in  survey 
ing  whatever  gave  our  forefathers  joy,  and  are  ready 
to  drop  a  sympathetic  tear  when  we  review  the  suf 
ferings  which  they  have  undergone.  But,  contrary 
to  the  laws  of  sympathy  and  justice,  the  attention 
of  the  public  is  often  engrossed  with  accounts  of  the 
more  dreadful  conflagrations  of  populous  cities  in 
foreign  countries,  or  the  defeat  of  armies  in  the 
field  of  carnage ;  while  the  destruction  of  small 
frontier  settlements  by  the  Indian  tribes  in  our  own 
country  is  at  the  same  time  little  known,  if  not 
entirely  forgotten.  Thus  the  miseries  of  our  neigh 
bors  and  friends  around  us,  whose  bitter  cries  have 
been  heard  in  our  streets,  are  too  often  suffered  to 
pass  unnoticed  down  the  current  of  time  into  the 
tomb  of  oblivion. 

The  burning  of  Royaltori  was  an  event  most  in 
auspicious  and  distressing  to  the  first  settlers  of 
that  town.  Nor  is  it  a  little  strange  that,  among 
the  numerous  authors  who  have  recorded  the  events 
of  the  American  revolution,  some  of  them  have  not 
given  place  in  their  works  to  a  more  full  detail  of 
that  afflictive  scene. 

Laboring  under  all  the  difficulties  and  hardships 
to  which  our  infant  settlements  were  subject,  and 
striving  by  persevering  industry  to  soar  above  every 
obstacle  which  might  present  itself  to  obstruct  their 
progress,  they  had  filled  their  barns  with  the  fruits 
of  the  land,  their  storehouses  were  crowded  with 


BURNING  OP   ROYALTON.  183 

the  comforts  of  life,  and  all  nature  seemed  to  wear 
a  propitious  smile.  All  around  them  promised  pros 
perity.  They  were  far  removed  from  the  noise  of 
war  ;  and,  though  conscious  of  their  danger,  fondly 
hoped  they  should  escape  the  ravages  of  a  savage 
foe. 

Royalton  was  chartered  in  the  year  1779.  A  con 
siderable  settlement,  however,  had  taken  place  pre 
vious  to  that  time,  and  the  town  was  in  a  thriving 
condition.  Large  stocks  of  cattle,  which  would 
confer  honor  upon  the  enterprise  of  farmers  in  old 
countries,  were  here  seen  grazing  in  their  fields. 

United  by  common  interest,  living  on  terms  of 
friendship,  and  manifesting  that  each  one  in  a  good% 
degree  "loved  his  neighbor  as  himself,"  harmony 
prevailed  in  their  borders,  social  happiness  was 
spread  around  their  firesides,  and  plenty  crowned 
their  labors.  But,  alas!  the  dreadful  reverse  re 
mains  to  be  told.  While  joys  possessed  were  turned 
to  sorrows,  their  hopes  for  joys  to  come  were 
blasted.  And  as  the  former  strongly  marked  the 
grievous  contrast  between  a  state  of  prosperity  and 
affliction,  the  latter  only  showed  the  fallacy  of  prom 
ising  ourselves  the  future. 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  October,  1780, 
before  the  dawn  of  day,  the  inhabitants  of  this  town 
were  surprised  by  the  approach  of  about  three  hun 
dred  Indians  of  various  tribes.  They  were  led  by 
the  Caghnewaga  tribe,  and  had  left  Canada  intend 
ing  to  destroy  Newbury,  a  town  in  the  eastern  part 
of  Vermont,  on  Connecticut  River.  A  British  lieu- 


184  BURNING  OF   EOYALTON. 

tenant  by  the  name  of  Horton  was  their  chief  com 
mander  ;  and  one  Le  Mott,  a  Frenchman,  was  his 
second.  Their  pilot,  or  leader,  was  a  despicable 
villain,  by  the  name  of  Hamilton,  who  had  been 
made  prisoner  by  the  Americans  at  the  taking  of 
Burgoyne  in  1777.  He  had  been  at  Newbury  and 
Royalton  the  preceding  summer  on  parole  of  honor, 
left  the  latter  place  with  several  others,  under  pre 
tence  of  going  to  survey  lands  in  the  northern  part 
of  this  state,  and  went  directly  to  the  enemy.  He 
was  doubtless  the  first  instigator  of  those  awful 
depredations  which  were  the  bitter  fruits  of  this  ex 
pedition,  and  which  ought  to  stamp  his  name  with 
infamy  and  disgrace. 

On  their  way  thither,  it  is  said,  they  came  across 
several  men  from  Newbury,  who  were  engaged  in 
hunting  near  the  place  where  Montpelier  village 
now  stands,  and  made  them  prisoners.  They  made 
known  their  object  to  these  hunters,  and  inquired  of 
them  whether  an  armed  force  was  stationed  at  New 
bury.  Knowing  the  defenceless  state  of  that  town, 
and  hoping  they  should  be  able  to  induce  the  In 
dians  to  relinquish  their  object  and  return  to  Canada, 
they  told  them  that  such  an  armed  garrison  was  kept 
at  Newbury  as  would  render  it  extremely  dangerous 
for  them  to  approach  —  thus  artfully  dissembling  by 
ambiguity  of  expression  the  true  condition  of  their 
fellow- townsmen,  and,  like  Rahab  the  harlot,  saved 
their  father's  house  from  destruction. 

Unwilling,  however,  that  their  expedition  should 
prove  wholly  fruitless,  they  turned  their  course  to 


BURNING   OF   ROYALTON.  185 

Royalton.  No  arguments  which  the  prisoners  could 
adduce  were  sufficient  to  persuade  them  from  that 
determination. 

Following  up  Onion  River  as  far  as  the  mouth  of 
Stevens's  branch,  which  empties  into  the  river  at 
Montpelier,  they  steered  their  course  through  Barre, 
at  that  time  called  Wildersburg ;  proceeded  up 
Gaol  branch,  which  forms  apart  of  Stevens's  branch, 
and  travelled  over  the  mountains  through  Orange 
and  Washington  ;  thence  down  the  first  branch  of 
White  River,  through  Chelsea  and  Tunbridge,  to 
Royalton.  They  laid  in  their  encampment  at  Tun- 
bridge,  not  far  distant  from  Royalton,  during  the 
Sabbath,  the  day  preceding  their  attack  upon  the 
latter  place,  for  the  purpose  of  concerting  measures 
to  carry  into  effect  their  atrocious  and  malignant 
designs.  Here  were  matured  those  diabolical  seeds 
of  depredation  and  cruelty  from  which  sprang  bit 
terness,  sorrow,  and  death. 

As  they  entered  the  town  before  daylight  ap 
peared,  darkness  covered  their  approach,  and  they 
were  not  discovered  till  Monday  morning  at  dawn 
of  day,  when  they  entered  the  house  of  Mr.  John 
Hutchinson,  who  resided  not  far  from  the  line  sep 
arating  Royalton  from  Tunbridge.  He  was  totally 
ignorant  of  their  approach,  and  wholly  unsuspicious 
of  danger  till  they  burst  the  door  upon  him. 

Here  they  took  Mr.  John  Hutchinson  and  Abijah 

Hutchinson,  his  brother,  prisoners,  and  plundered 

the  house  ;  crossed  the  first  branch,  and  went  to  the 

house  of  Mr.  Robert  Havens,  who  lived  at  a  small 

16* 


186  BURNING  OF  ROYALTON. 

distance  from  Mr.  Hutchinson's.  Mr.  Havens  had 
gone  out  into  his  pasture  in  pursuit  of  his  sheep, 
and  having  ascended  a  hill  about  forty  rods  from 
his  house,  hearing  his  neighbor  Hutchinson's  dog 
bark,  halted,  and  stood  in  pensive  silence.  Here 
he  listened  with  deep  anxiety  to  know  the  extent 
of  the  evil  he  feared.  But,  alas!  he  little  expected 
to  find  a  herd  of  savage  men.  It  was  his  only  fear 
that  some  voracious  animal  was  among  his  sheep, 
which  so  disturbed  the  watchful  dog.  While  he 
listened  in  silence,  with  his  thoughts  suspended,  he 
heard  a  noise  as  of  sheep  or  cattle  running  with  full 
speed  through  the  water.  Casting  his  eye  to  the 
west,  towards  his  own  dwelling,  he  beheld  a  com 
pany  of  Indians  just  entering  the  door.  Seeing  his 
own  danger,  he  immediately  laid  down  under  a  log, 
and  hid  himself  from  their  sight.  But  he  could  not 
hide  sorrow  from  his  mind.  Here  he  wept.  Tears 
trickling  down  his  withered  cheeks  bespoke  the 
anguish  of  his  soul  while  he  thought  upon  the  dis 
tress  of  his  family.  With  groanings  unutterable  he 
lay  a  while,  heard  the  piercing  shrieks  of  his  be 
loved  wife,  and  saw  his  sons  escaping  for  their 
lives. 

Laden  with  the  weight  of  years,  decrepit  and  in 
firm,  he  was  sensible  if  he  appeared  in  sight  it  would 
prove  his  death.  He  therefore  resolved  not  to  move 
until  a  favorable  opportunity  presented.  His  son, 
Daniel  Havens,  and  Thomas  Pember  were  in  the 
house,  and  made  their  appearance  at  the  door  a  lit 
tle  before  the  Indians  came  up.  Beholding  the  foe 


BURNING  OP  ROYALTON.  187 

but  few  rods  distant,  they  ran  for  their  lives.  Daniel 
Havens  made  his  escape  by  throwing  himself  over  a 
hedge  fence  down  the  bank  of  the  branch  and 
crawling  under  a  log,  although  a  large  number  of 
the  Indians  passed  directly  over  it  in  pursuit  of 
him.  Who  can  tell  the  fears  that  agitated  his 
bosom  while  these  savage  pursuers  stepped  upon  the 
log  under  which  he  lay  ?  and  who  can  tell  the  joys 
he  felt  when  he  saw  them  pass  off,  leaving  him  in 
safety? — a  quick  transition  from  painful  fear  and 
imminent  danger  to  joyful  peace  and  calm  retire 
ment.  They  pursued  Thomas  Pember  till  they  came 
so  near  as  to  throw  a  spear  at  him,  which  pierced 
his  body  and  put  an  end  to  his  existence.  He  ran 
some  time,  however,  after  he  was  wounded,  till  by 
loss  of  blood  he  fainted,  fell,  and  was  unable  to 
proceed  farther.  The  savage  monsters  came  up, 
several  times  thrust  a  spear  through  his  body,  took 
off  his  scalp,  and  left  him  food  for  worms.  While 
they  were  tearing  his  scalp  from  his  head,  how  did 
his  dying  groans  pierce  the  skies  and  call  on  Him 
who  holds  the  scales  of  justice  to  mark  their  cruelty 
and  avenge  his  blood  ! 

He  had  spent  the  night  previous  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Havens,  engaged  in  amorous  conversation  with  a 
daughter  of  Mr.  Havens,  who  was  his  choice  compan 
ion,  the  intended  partner  of  his  life. 

By  imagination  we  view  the  fair  survivor  sur 
rounded  by  the  savage  tribe,  whose  frightful  aspect 
threatened  ruin  ;  her  soul  overwhelmed  with  fear, 
and  stung  with  grief,  bereft  of  her  dearest  friend. 


188  BURNING  OF  ROYALTON. 

They  made  the  house  of  Mr.  Havens  their  rallying 
point,  or  post  of  observation,  and  stationed  a  part 
of  their  company  there  to  guard  their  baggage  and 
make  preparations  for  retreat  when  they  had  com 
pleted  their  work  of  destruction.  Like  the  messen 
ger  of  death,  silent  and  merciless,  they  were  scarcely 
seen  till  felt ;  or,  if  seen,  filled  the  mind  with  terror, 
nor  often  afforded  opportunity  for  escape.  Moving 
with  violent  steps,  they  proceeded  down  the  first 
branch  to  its  mouth  ;  while  a  number,  armed  with 
spears,  led  the  van,  and  were  followed  by  others, 
armed  with  muskets  and  scalping  knives.  The  for 
mer  they  called  runners,  who  were  directed  to  kill 
all  those  who  should  be  overtaken  in  an  attempt  to 
escape  ;  while  the  latter,  denominated  gunners,  took 
charge  of  the  prisoners,  and  scalped  those  who  were 
killed. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  before  a  young  man,  by 
the  name  of  Elias  Button,  being  ignorant  of  their  ap 
proach,  made  his  appearance  in  the  road  but  a  few 
rods  from  them.  Espying  his  danger,  he  turned  and 
ran  with  the  greatest  possible  speed  in  his  power  to 
escape  their  cruel  hands.  The  savage  tribe  pursued 
him  with  their  usual  agility,  soon  overtook  the  trem 
bling  youth,  pierced  his  body  with  their  spears,  took 
off  his  scalp,  and  left  him  weltering  in  his  gore. 
Young,  vigorous,  and  healthy,  and  blessed  with  the 
brightest  hopes  of  long  life  and  good  days,  he  was 
overtaken  by  the  merciless  stroke  of  death  without 
having  a  minute's  warning.  Innocence  and  bravery 
were  no  shield,  nor  did  activity  secure  him  a  safe 
retreat. 


BURNING  OP  ROYALTON.  189 

That  they  might  be  enabled  to  fall  upon  the  inhab 
itants  unawares,  and  thereby  secure  a  greater  num 
ber  of  prisoners  as  well  as  procure  a  greater  quan 
tity  of  plunder,  they  kept  profound  silence  till  they 
had  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  branch. 

After  killing  Pember  and  Button,  and  taking  such 
plunder  as  most  pleased  their  fancy,  they  proceeded 
to  the  house  of  Joseph  Kneeland,  who  resided  about 
half  a  mile  distant  from  the  house  of  Mr.  Havens. 
Here  they  found  Messrs.  Simeon  Belknap,  Giles 
Gibbs,  and  Jonathan  Brown,  together  with  Joseph 
Kneeland  and  his  aged  father,  all  of  whom  they 
made  prisoners.  They  then  went  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Elias  Curtis,  where  they  took  Mr.  Curtis,  John 
Kent,  and  Peter  Mason.  Mrs.  Curtis  had  just 
waked  from  the  slumbers  of  the  night,  and  was 
about  dressing  herself  as  she  sat  upon  her  bed, 
when  the  savage  monsters  entered  the  door  ;  and 
one  of  them  instantly  flew  at  her,  with  a  large  knife 
in  his  hand,  and  seized  her  by  the  neck,  apparently 
intending  to  cut  her  throat.  While  in  the  very  at 
titude  of  inflicting  the  fatal  wound,  the  murderous 
wretch  discovered  a  string  of  gold  beads  around 
her  neck,  which  attracted  his  attention,  and  pre 
vented  the  dreadful  stroke  of  death.  Thus  his 
avidity  for  gold  allayed  his  thirst  for  human  blood. 
His  raging  passions  were  suddenly  cooled  ;  curiosity 
restrained  his  vengeance  and  spared  the  life  of  the 
frightened  object  of  his  cruelty.  He  had  put  the 
knife  to  her  throat,  and  eternity  seemed  open  to  her 
view  ;  but  instead  of  taking  her  life  he  only  took 


190  BURNING   OP  BOYALTON. 

her  beads,  and  left  her  rejoicing  at  her  deliverance. 
The  barbarous  looks  of  the  wicked  crew  bespoke 
their  malignant  designs,  and  caused  horror  and  dis 
may  to  fill  the  minds  of  all  who  beheld  them.  But, 
alas !  who  can  tell  what  horror  thrilled  the  bosom 
of  this  trembling  woman?  What  fearful  pangs 
were  made  to  pierce  her  soul !  Behold  the  tawny 
wretch,  with  countenance  wild  and  awful  grimaces, 
'standing  by  her  bedside,  holding  her  by  the  throat 
with  one  hand,  and  the  weapon  of  death  in  the  other ! 
See  standing  around  her  a  crowd  of  brutal  savages, 
the  sons  of  violence,  foul  tormenters  !  In  vain  do  I 
attempt  to  paint  the  scene.  Nor  will  I  pretend  to 
describe  the  feelings  of  a  kind  and  tender  mother, 
who,  reposing  in  the  arms  of  sleep,  with  her  infant 
at  her  bosom,  is  roused  from  her  slumbers  by  the  ap 
proach  of  a  tribe  of  savage  Indians  at  her  bedside. 
To  prevent  an  alarm  from  being  sounded  abroad, 
they  commanded  the  prisoners  to  keep  silence  on 
pain  of  death.  While  the  afflicted  inhabitants  be 
held  their  property  wasted  and  their  lives  exposed  to 
the  arrows  of  death,  it  caused  their  hearts  to  swell 
with  grief.  But  they  were  debarred  the  privilege  of 
making  known  their  sufferings  to  their  nearest  friends, 
or  even  to  pour  out  their  cries  of  distress,  while  sur 
rounded  by  the  savage  band,  whose  malevolent  ap 
pearance  could  not  fail  to  spread  fear  and  distress  in 
every  bosom.  They  plundered  every  house  they 
found  till  they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  branch. 
Here  the  commander,  a  British  officer,  took  his  stand 
with  a  small  party  of  Indians,  while  some  went  up 


BURNING  OF  EOYALTON.  191 

and  others  down  on  each  side  of  the  river  to  complete 
the  work  of  destruction.  They  had  already  taken 
several  horses,  which  some  of  them  rode,  to  facilitate 
their  march  and  enable  them  to  overtake  those  who 
attempted  to  make  their  escape.  Frightened  at  the 
horrible  appearance  of  their  riders,  who  were  in  no 
way  qualified  to  manage  them,  the  horses  served 
rather  to  impede  than  hasten  their  progress. 

Instigated  by  "  the  powers  of  darkness,"  fired 
with  rage,  eager  to  obtain  that  booty  which  they 
acquired  by  the  pillage  of  houses,  and  fearful,  at  the 
same  time,  that  they  should  themselves  fall  a  prey 
to  the  American  forces,  they  pursued  their  ravages 
with  infuriated  zeal,  and  violence  and  horror  at 
tended  their  movement. 

General  Elias  Stevens,  who  resided  in  the  first 
house  on  the  river  above  the  mouth  of  the  branch, 
had  gone  down  the  river  about  two  miles,  and  was 
engaged  at  work  with  his  oxen  and  cart.  While 
busily  employed  loading  his  cart,  casting  his  eye  up 
the  river  he  beheld  a  man  approaching,  bareheaded, 
with  his  horse  upon  the  run,  who,  seeing  General 
Stevens,  cried  out,  "  For  God's  sake,  turn  out  your 
oxen,  for  the  Indians  are  at  the  mill !  "  *  General 
Stevens  hastened  to  unyoke  his  oxen,  turned  them 
out,  and  immediately  mounted  his  horse  and  started 
to  return  to  his  family,  filled  with  fearful  apprehen 
sions  for  the  fate  of  his  beloved  wife  and  tender  off 
spring.  He  had  left  them  in  apparent  safety,  repos- 

*  The  mills  to  which  he  referred,  owned  by  a  Mr.  Morgan,  were  sit 
uated  on  the  first  branch,  near  its  mouth. 


192  BURNING  OF  ROYALTON. 

ing  in  the  arms  of  sleep.  Having  proceeded  on  his 
return  about  half  way  home,  he  met  Captain  Joseph 
Parkhurst,  who  informed  him  that  the  Indians  were 
but  a  few  rods  distant,  in  swift  pursuit  down  the  river, 
and  that,  unless  he  returned  immediately,  he  would 
inevitably  fall  into  their  hands. 

Apprised  of  his  danger,  he  turned  and  accompanied 
the  captain  down  the  river.  Conjugal  and  parental 
affection  alone  can  suggest  to  the  imagination  of  the 
reader  what  were  the  feelings  of  General  Stevens 
when  compelled  for  his  own  safety  to  leave  the  wife  of 
his  bosom  and  their  little  ones  to  the  mercy  of  a  sav 
age  foe.  What  pains  did  he  feel  when  he  found  him 
self  deprived  of  all  possible  means  to  afford  them  re 
lief  !  Nor  could  he  expect  a  more  favorable  event 
than  to  find  them  all  sacrificed  at  the  shrine  of  savage 
barbarity.  Who,  not  totally  devoid  of  sympathy, 
can  refrain  to  drop  a  tear  as  he  reflects  upon  those 
painful  emotions  which  agitated  the  general's  breast 
when  he  was  forced  to  turn  his  back  upon  his  beloved 
family  while  thus  exposed  to  danger  ?  Indeed,  it  was 
his  only  source  of  consolation  that  he  might  be  able 
to  afford  assistance  to  his  defenceless  neighbors  ;  and 
as  they  soon  came  to  the  house  of  Deacon  Daniel  Rix, 
he  there  found  opportunity  to  lend  the  hand  of  pity. 
General  Stevens  took  Mrs.  Rix  and  two  or  three 
children  with  him  upon  his  horse ;  Captain  Park- 
hurst  took  Mrs.  Benton  and  several  children  upon 
his  horse  with  him  ;  and  they  all  rode  off  as  fast  as 
possible,  accompanied  by  Deacon  Rix  and  several 
others  on  foot,  till  they  arrived  at  the  place  where 


BURNING  OP  ROYALTON.  193 

the  general  first  received  the  alarm.  Filled  with 
anxiety  for  his  family,  and  not  having  seen  any  In 
dians,  General  Stevens  here  concluded  again  to 
return,  hoping  he  should  be  able  to  reach  home  in 
time  to  secure  his  household  from  danger  before  the 
Indians  arrived.  Leaving  Mrs.  Rix  and  children  in 
the  care  of  a  Mr.  Burroughs,  he  started  for  home, 
and  had  proceeded  about  half  a  mile  when  he  discov 
ered  the  Indians  in  the  road  ahead  of  him,  but  a  few 
rods  distant.  He  quickly  turned  about,  hastened  his 
retreat,  soon  overtook  the  company  he  had  left,  and 
entreated  them  immediately  to  leave  the  road  and 
take  to  the  woods,  to  prevent  being  taken.  Those 
who  were  on  foot  jumped  over  the  fence,  hastened  to 
the  woods  out  of  sight  of  the  Indians,  where  they  re 
mained  in  safety,  undiscovered  by  the  savage  foe,  who 
kept  the  road  in  pursuit  of  General  Stevens.  He 
passed  down  the  road  about  half  a  mile,  and  came  to 
the  house  of  Mr.  Tilly  Parkhurst,  his  father-in-law. 
Seeing  his  sister  engaged  in  milking  by  the  barn,  he 
"  told  her  to  leave  her  cow  immediately,  or  the  In 
dians  would  have  her,"  and  left  her  to  secure  her 
own  retreat.  They  were  now  in  plain  sight,  not 
more  than  eighty  or  a  hundred  rods  off.  The  road 
was  full  of  them,  running  like  bloodhounds.  The 
general  rode  to  the  house,  told  them  to  run  for  their 
lives,  and  proceeded  to  warn  others  who  lived  con 
tiguous.  By  this  time  the  way  was  filled  with  men, 
women,  and  children,  and  a  large  body  of  Indians  in 
open  view  but  just  behind  them.  The  savage  tribe 
now  began  to  make  the  surrounding  wilderness 
17 


194  BURNING  OF   ROYALTON. 

reecho  with  their  frightful  yells.  Frightened  and 
alarmed  for  their  safety,  children  clung  to  their  par 
ents  ;  and  half-distracted  mothers,  filled  with  fearful 
apprehensions  of  approaching  destruction,  were 
heard  to  make  the  air  resound  with  their  cries  of 
distress.  General  Stevens  endeavored  to  get  them 
into  the  woods,  out  of  sight  of  the  Indians.  Fear 
had  usurped  the  power  of  reason,  and  Wisdom's 
voice  was  drowned  in  the  torrent  of  distraction. 
There  was  no  time  for  argument ;  all  was  at  stake  ; 
the  enemy  hard  by,  and  fast  approaching  ;  defence 
less  mothers,  with  helpless  infants  in  their  arms,  flee 
ing  for  their  lives.  Despair  was  spread  before  them, 
while  the  roaring  flood  of  destruction  seemed  rolling 
behind  them.  Few  could  be  persuaded  to  go  into 
the  woods  ;  and  most  of  them  kept  the  road  till 
they  arrived  at  the  house  of  Captain  E.  Parkhurst, 
in  Sharon.  Here  they  halted  a  moment  to  take 
breath,  hoping  they  should  not  be  pursued  any  far 
ther.  The  Indians,  being  taken  up  in  plundering 
the  houses,  had  now  fallen  considerably  in  the  rear. 
But  the  unhappy  victims  of  distress  had  not  long 
been  here  when  the  cruel  pursuers  again  appeared 
in  sight. 

Screaming  and  crying  now  witnessed  the  horrors 
of  that  dreadful  scene.  Groans  and  tears  bespoke 
the  feelings  of  a  heart  agitated  with  fear  and  swol 
len  with  grief.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 
While  they  waited  they  waited  for  destruction. 
Children  hanging  to  their  mothers'  clothes  ;  moth 
ers  inquiring  what  they  should  do,  and  calling  for 


BUBNING  OF  EOYALTON.  195 

assistance ;  floods  of  tears  and  piercing  shrieks,  — 
all  presented  to  view  a  most  painful  scene.  Seeing 
the  Indians  approaching  with  hideous  yells  that 
thrilled  the  heart  of  every  one,  General  Stevens  put 
his  mother  and  his  sister  upon  his  own  horse.  Cap 
tain  Joseph  Parkhurst  put  Mrs.  Rix  and  three  of 
her  children  upon  another  horse,  without  a  bridle, 
and  ordered  them  to  hasten  their  flight.  There  yet 
remained  the  wife  of  Captain  E.  Parkhurst,  who 
stood  in  the  most  critical  situation  in  which  a  wo 
man  can  be  placed,  begging  and  crying  for  help, 
surrounded  by  six  small  children  clinging  to  her 
clothes  and  pleading  with  her  for  protection.  Alas  ! 
how  awful  was  the  spectacle,  how  affecting  the 
scene,  to  see  a  woman  in  this  deplorable  condition 
pleading  for  succor  when  none  could  help,  when 
safety  and  support  had  fled,  and  dangers  were  rush 
ing  upon  her  !  A  heart  not  devoid  of  sympathy 
could  not  fail  to  weep.  Conscious  of  her  wretched 
situation,  feeling  for  her  dear  children,  being  told 
there  was  no  probability  for  her  escape,  gathering 
her  little  ones  around  her  she  wept  in  bitterness  of 
soul  ;  tears  of  pity  ran  down  her  cheeks  while  she 
waited  the  approach  of  the  savage  tribe  to  inflict 
upon  her  whatever  malice  could  invent  or  inhuman 
ity  devise. 

Her  husband,  to  whom  she  fain  would  have  looked 
for  protection,  was  gone  from  home  when  all  her 
woes  fell  upon  her.  Well  might  she  say,  "  There 
fore  are  my  loins  filled  with  pain  ;  pangs  have  taken 
hold  upon  me  as  the  pangs  of  a  woman  that  trav- 


196  BURNING  OP  ROYALTON. 

aileth  ;  my  heart  panted  ;  fearfulness  affrighted  me  ; 
the  night  of  my  pleasure  hath  he  turned  into  fear 
unto  me."  While  Mrs.  Parkhurst  saw  her  friends 
and  neighbors  fleeing  from  her,  and  beheld  the  In 
dians  approaching  with  impetuous  step,  her  bosom 
throbbed  with  anguish ;  horror  seized  her  soul ;  and 
death,  immediate  death,  both  to  her  and  her  chil 
dren,  "  stood  thick  around  her,"  threatening  to 
thrust  his  dagger  into  her  aching  heart.  There  was 
no  time  to  decide  on  the  priority  of  claims  to  pity 
or  the  demands  of  justice.  Those  who  were  near 
est  at  hand  first  received  assistance  ;  not,  however, 
without  regard  to  that  affection  which  arises  from 
consanguinity  or  matrimonial  connection  ;  and  these 
relations  not  only  unite  the  hearts  but  connect  the 
hands  in  scenes  of  distress. 

At  the  time  General  Stevens  put  his  mother  and 
his  sister  upon  his  horse,  the  Indians  were  not  eight 
rods  from  him  ;  they,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Rix  and 
her  children,  rode  off  as  fast  as  possible  :  the  gen 
eral  followed  with  several  others  on  foot.  Part  of 
the  Indians  pursued  them,  while  others  entered  the 
house  and  plundered  it  of  its  furniture.  They  took 
her  eldest  son  from  her  ;  then  ordered  her,  with  the 
rest  of  her  children,  to  leave  the  house.  She  ac 
cordingly  repaired  into  the  fields  back  of  the  house 
with  five  of  her  children,  and  remained  in  safety  till 
they  had  left  the  place.  Soon  after  General  Stevens 
started,  his  dog  came  in  his  way,  and  caused  him  to 
stumble  and  fall,  which  so  retarded  his  progress 
that  he  was  obliged  to  flee  to  the  woods  for  safety, 


BURNING  OF   EOYALTON.  197 

leaving  the  women  and  children  to  make  the  best 
of  their  retreat.  The  Indians  pursued  down  the 
road  after  them  with  frightful  yells,  and  soon  over 
took  those  who  were  on  foot.  They  took  Gardner 
Rix,  son  of  Deacon  Rix,*  a  boy  about  fourteen 
years  old,  just  at  the  heels  of  his  mother's  horse, 
while  she  was  compelled  to  witness  the  painful  sight. 
Alas !  what  distress  and  horror  filled  her  bosom, 
when  she,  with  three  of  her  children  no  less  dear 
than  herself,  fleeing  from  the  savage  foe,  mounted 
upon  a  horse  snorting  with  fear,  having  nothing  but 
a  pocket  handkerchief  in  his  mouth  for  a  bridle,  saw 
her  wearied  son,  faint  for  want  of  breath,  fall  a  cap 
tive  to  this  barbarous  crew !  Cruel  fate !  The 
trembling  youth,  overwhelmed  with  fear  and  bathed 
in  tears,  was  now  torn  from  his  tender  parents,  and 
compelled  to  roam  the  wilderness  to  unknown  re 
gions.  Nor  was  the  disconsolate  mother,  with  her 
other  little  ones,  left  in  a  much  more  safe  condition. 
Exposed  and  expecting  every  step  to  fall  to  the 
ground,  which,  if  it  proved  not  their  death,  would 
leave  them  a  prey  to  the  savage  monsters,  no  tongue 
can  tell  the  pains  she  felt,  nor  pen  describe  the  hor 
rors  of  her  soul.  To  behold  her  little  son,  while 
fleeing  for  his  life,  fall  into  the  hands  of  these  sons 
of  cruelty,  what  kind  and  tender  mother  would  not 
feel  her  heart  to  bleed  ?  May  we  not  listen  to  the 
voice  of  Imagination,  and  hear  her  say,  — 

*  Captain  Eix  then  lived  where  Mr.  Phelps  now  lives.    1853. 

17* 


198  BURNING  OP  BOYALTON. 

"  O  infinite  distress  !  such  raging  grief 
Should  command  pity,  and  despair  relief; 
Passion,  methinks,  should  rise  from  all  my  groans, 
Give  sense  to  rocks  and  sympathy  to  stones  "  ? 

The  Indians  pursued  the  women  and  children  as 
far  as  the  house  of  Mr.  Benedict,  the  distance  of 
about  a  mile.  They  effected  their  escape,  though 
surrounded  with  dangers  and  pursued  with  impetu 
ous  and  clamorous  steps.  Here  they  discovered 
Mr.  Benedict  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  stream,  called 
Broad  Brook,  which  ran  near  the  house.  They 
beckoned  to  have  him  come  over  to  them  ;  choos 
ing,  however,  not  to  hazard  the  consequences  of 
yielding  obedience  to  their  request,  he  turned  and 
ran  a  short  distance,  and  hid  himself  under  a  log. 
He  had  not  long  been  in  this  situation  when  these 
bloodthirsty  wretches  came  and  stood  upon  the  same 
log,  and  were  heard  by  him  to  exclaim,  in  angry 
tone,  "  If  we  could  find  him  he  should  feel  the  tom 
ahawk." 

After  standing  upon  the  log  some  time,  and  en 
deavoring  to  espy  the  concealed,  trembling  object 
of  their  pursuit,  they  left  him  and  returned  to  the 
house.  Ah,  what  joy  filled  his  bosom  when  he  saw 
these  messengers  of  death  pass  away,  leaving  him  in 
safety !  How  must  his  heart  have  glowed  with 
gratitude  towards  the"  great  Preserver  of  men  "  at 
this  unexpected  deliverance  from  the  most  imminent 
danger ! 

His  joys,  however,  were  not  unmingled  with  sor 
row,  as  the  fell  destroyers  were  still  at  his  house, 


BURNING  OP   ROYALTON.  199 

committing  ravages  and  wasting  his  property.  But 
no  man  can  be  supposed  to  put  his  property  in  com 
petition  with  his  life. 

The  Indians  pursued  down  the  river  about  forty 
rods  farther,  where  they  made  a  young  man,  by  the 
name  of  Avery,  prisoner,  and  then  concluded  to 
return. 

While  they  were  at  the  house  of  Tilly  Parkhurst, 
aforementioned,  (which  was  about  six  miles  from 
the  place  they  entered  Royalton,)  his  son,  Phineas 
Parkhurst,  who  had  been  to  alarm  the  people  on  the 
east  side  of  the  river,  just  as  he  entered  the  stream 
on  his  return  discovered  the  Indians  at  his  father's 
door.  Finding  himself  in  danger,  he  immediately 
turned  to  go  back  •  and  the  Indians  just  at  this  time 
happened  to  see  him,  and  fired  upon  him.  This  was 
the  first  gun  they  fired  after  they  entered  the  town. 
The  ball  entered  his  back,  went  through  his  body, 
came  out  under  his  ribs,  and  lodged  in  the  skin  : 
notwithstanding  the  wound,  he  was,  however,  able 
to  ride,  and  continued  his  retreat  to  Lebanon,  in  the 
State  of  New  Hampshire,  the  distance  of  about  six 
teen  miles,  with  very  little  stop,  supporting  the  ball 
between  his  fingers.  He  now  resides  in  that  town, 
and  sustains  the  character  of  a  useful  physician,  and 
an  industrious,  independent  farmer. 

That  party  of  Indians  which  went  down  on  the 
east  side  of  the  river  extended  their  ravages  as  far 
as  the  house  of  Captain  Gilbert,  in  Sharon,  where  a 
public  house  is  now  kept  by  Captain  Dana.  Here 
they  took  a  nephew  of  Captain  Gilbert,  by  the  name 


200  BURNING    OF   ROYALTON. 

of  Nathaniel  Gilbert,  a  boy  about  fifteen  years  of 
age.  They  now  resolved  to  return,  and  commenced 
that  waste  of  property  which  tracked  their  progress. 
As  they  retraced  their  steps,  they  set  fire  to  all  the 
buildings  they  found,  of  every  description.  They 
spread  desolation  and  distress  wherever  they  went* 
Houses  filled  with  furniture  and  family  supplies  for 
the  winter,  barns  stored  with  the  fruits  of  industry, 
and  fields  stocked  with  herds  of  cattle  were  all  laid 
waste. 

They  shot  and  killed  fourteen  fat  oxen  in  one  yard, 
which,  in  consequence  of  the  inhabitants  being  dis 
persed,  were  wholly  lost.  Cows,  sheep,  and  hogs, 
and,  indeed,  every  creature  designed  by  the  God  of 
nature  to  supply  the  wants  of  man,  which  came 
within  their  sight,  fell  a  prey  to  these  dreadful  spoil 
ers.  Parents  torn  from  their  children,  husbands 
separated  from  their  wives,  and  children  snatched 
from  their  parents  presented  to  view  an  indescrib 
able  scene  of  wretchedness  and  distress.  Some 
were  driven  from  their  once  peaceful  habitations 
into  the  adjacent  wilderness  for  safety,  there  to 
wait  the  destruction  of  their  property  ;  stung  with 
the  painful  reflection  that  their  friends,  perhaps  a 
kind  father  and  affectionate  brother,  were  made 
captives,  and  compelled  to  travel  with  a  tawny  herd 
of  savage  men  into  the  wild  regions  of  the  north, 
to  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  enemies  and  un 
dergo  the  fatigues  and  dangers  of  a  wretched  captiv 
ity  ;  or,  what  was  scarcely  more  to  be  deplored, 
learn  with  pain  that  they  had  fallen  the  unhappy 


BURNING   OP   EOYALTON.  201 

victims  to  the  relentless  fury  of  the  savage  tribe, 
and  were  weltering  in  their  gore  where  there  was 
no  eye  to  pity  or  friendly  hand  to  administer  relief. 

The  third  party  of  Indians  who  went  up  the 
river  first  came  to  the  house  of  General  Stevens. 
Daniel  Havens,  whose  escape  I  have  mentioned, 
went  directly  there,  and  warned  the  family  of  their 
danger.  Trembling  with  fear,  he  only  stepped  into 
the  house,  told  them  that  "  the  Indians  were  as 
thick  as  the  d-^-l  at  their  house,"  and  turned  and 
went  directly  out,  leaving  the  family  to  secure  their 
own  retreat. 

Mrs.  Stevens  and  the  family  were  in  bed,  except 
ing  her  husband,  who,  as  before  stated,  had  gone 
down  the  river,  about  two  miles  from  home.  She 
immediately  arose  from  her  bed,  flung  some  loose 
clothes  over  her,  took  up  her  child,  and  had  scarce 
ly  got  to  the  fire  when  a  large  body  of  Indians 
rushed  in  at  the  door.  They  immediately  ransacked 
the  house  in  search  of  men,  and  then  took  the  beds 
and  bedding,  carried  them  out  of  doors,  cut  open 
the  bedticks,  and  threw  the  feathers  into  the  air. 
This  made  them  sport  enough.  Nor  did  they  fail 
to  manifest  their  infernal  gratification  by  their  tar- 
tarean  shouts  and  disingenuous  conduct. 

Mrs.  Stevens  entreated  them  to  let  her  have  some 
clothes  for  herself  and  child ;  but  her  entreaties 
were  in  vain.  They  were  deaf  to  the  calls  of  the 
needy,  and  disregarded  the  demands  of  justice. 
Her  cries  reached  their  ears,  but  nothing  could 
excite  one  single  glow  of  sympathy.  Her  destitute 


202  BURNING   OP   ROYALTON. 

and  suffering  condition  was  plain  before  their  eyes  ; 
but  they  were  blind  to  objects  of  compassion.  Alas  ! 
what  bitterness  of  soul,  what  anguish,  what  heart 
rending  pangs  of  fear  distressed  her  tender  bosom ! 
Surrounded  by  these  pitiless,  terrific  monsters  in 
human  shape,  with  her  little  offspring  in  her  arms, 
whose  piercing  shrieks  and  tender  age  called  for 
compassion  ;  exposed  to  the  raging  fire  of  savage 
jealousy,  unquenchable  by  a  mother's  tears  ;  anxious 
for  the  safety  and  mourning  the  absence  of  her 
bosom  friend,  the  husband  of  her  youth,  —  it  is  be 
yond  the  powers  of  imagination  to  conceive  or  lan 
guage  to  express  the  sorrows  of  her  heart. 

At  one  moment  securely  reposing  in  the  arms  of 
sleep,  with  her  darling  infant  at  her  breast ;  the 
next  amid  a  savage  crew,  whose  wicked  hands  were 
employed  in  spreading  desolation  and  mischief, 
whose  mortal  rage  exposed  her  to  the  arrows  of 
death.  After  plundering  the  house  they  told  Mrs. 
Stevens  to  "  be  gone  or  they  would  burn."  She  had 
been  afraid  to  make  any  attempt  to  escape,  but  now 
gladly  embraced  the  opportunity.  She  hastened 
into 'the  adjacent  wilderness,  carrying  her  child, 
where  she  tarried  till  the  Indians  had  left  the 
town. 

A  boy  by  the  name  of  Daniel  Waller,  about  four 
teen  years  old,  who  lived  with  General  Stevens, 
hearing  the  alarm  given  by  Mr.  Havens,  set  out  im 
mediately  to  go  to  the  general  and  give  him  the  in 
formation.  He  had  proceeded  about  half  a  mile 
when  he  met  the  Indians,  was  taken  prisoner,  'and 
carried  to  Canada. 


BURNING  OF   ROYALTON.  203 

They  left  the  house  and  barn  of  General  Stevens 
in  flames,  and  proceeded  up  the  river  as  far  as  Mr. 
Durkee's,  where  they  took  two  of  his  boys  prison 
ers,  Adan  and  Andrew,  and  carried  the  former  to 
Canada,  who  died  there  in  prison. 

Seeing  a  smoke  arise  above  the  trees  in  the  woods 
adjacent,  the  hostile  invaders  directed  their  course 
to  the  spot,  where  they  found  a  young  man,  by  the 
name  of  Prince  Haskell,  busily  engaged  in  chop 
ping,  for  the  commencement  of  a  settlement.  Has 
kell  heard  a  rustling  among  the  leaves  behind  him, 
and,  turning  round,  beheld  two  Indians  but  a  few 
feet  from  him.  One  stood  with  his  gun  pointed  di 
rectly  at  him,  and  the  other  in  the  attitude  of  throw 
ing  a  tomahawk.  Finding  he  had  no  chance  to 
escape,  he  delivered  himself  up  as  a  prisoner,  and 
was  also  carried  to  Canada:  He  returned  in  about 
one  year,  after  enduring  the  most  extreme  sufferings 
in  his  wanderings  through  the  wilderness  on  his  way 
home. 

A  Mr.  Chafee,*  who  lived  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
Hendee,  started  early  in  the  morning  to  go  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Elias  Curtis  to  get  his  horse  shod. 
On  his  way  he  saw  Mr.  John  Kent  ahead  of  him, 
who  was  upon  the  same  business.  Wishing  to  put  in 
his  claim  before  Mr.  Chafee.  he  rode  very  fast,  and 
arrived  at  the  house  first.  He  had  scarcely  dis 
mounted  from  his  horse  when  the  Indians  came  out 
of  the  house,  took  him  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and 

*  Mr.  Chafee  lived  near  where  Mr.  Dewey  now  lives,  1851. 


204  BURNING   OF   ROYALTO:N?. 

pulled  him  over  backwards.  Seeing  this,  Mr. 
Chafee  immediately  dismounted,  jumped  behind  the 
shop,  hastened  away,  keeping  such  a  direction  as 
would  cause  the  shop  to  hide  his  retreat.  Thus  he 
kept  out  of  sight  of  the  Indians,  effected  his  escape, 
and  returned  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Hendee.*  On  re 
ceiving  the  alarm  given  by  Mr.  Chafee,  Mr.  Hendee 
directed  his  wife  to  take  her  little  boy,  about  seven 
years  old,  and  her  little  daughter,  who  was  still 
younger,  and  hasten  to  one  of  their  neighbors  for 
safety,  while  he  should  go  to  Bethel,  the  town  west 
of  Royalton,  and  give  the  alarm  at  the  fort. 

Mrs.  Hendee  had  not  proceeded  far  when  she  was 
met  by  several  Indians  upon  the  run,  who  took  her 
little  boy  from  her.  Feeling  anxious  for  the  fate 
of  her  child,  she  inquired  what  they  were  going  to 
do  with  him.  They  replied  that  they  should  make 
a  soldier  of  him  ;  and  then  hastened  away,  pulling 
him  along  by  the  hand,  leaving  the  weeping  mother 
with  her  little  daughter  to  witness  the  scene  and 
hear  the  piercing  shrieks  of  her  darling  son. 

This  leads  me  to  notice  one  instance  of  female 
heroism,  blended  with  benevolence,  displayed  by 
Mrs.  Hendee,  whose  name  deserves  ever  to  be  held 
in  remembrance  by  every  friend  of  humanity. 

She  was  now  separated  from  her  husband,  and 
placed  in  the  midst  of  a  savage  crew,  who  were  com 
mitting  the  most  horrid  depredations  and  destroy 
ing  every  kind  of  property  that  fell  within  their 

*  Mr.  Hendee  lived  near  where  Milo  Dewey  now  lives,  1853. 


BURNING   OF   ROYALTON.  205 

grasp.  Defenceless,  and  exposed  to  the  shafts  of 
envy  or  the  rage  of  a  company  of  despicable  tories 
and  brutal  savages,  the  afflicted  mother,  robbed  of 
her  only  son,  proceeded  down  the  river  with  her 
tender  little  daughter  hanging  to  her  clothes, 
screaming  with  fear,  pleading  with  her  mother  to 
keep  away  the  Indians. 

In  this  condition,  possessing  uncommon  resolution 
and  great  presence  of  mind,  she  determined  again  to 
get  possession  of  her  son.  As  she  passed  down  the 
river  she  met  several  tories  who  were  with  the  In 
dians,  of  whom  she  continued  to  inquire  what  they 
intended  to  do  with  the  children  they  had  taken, 
and  received  an  answer  that  they  should  kill  them. 
Still  determined  not  to  part  with  her  son,  she  passed 
on  and  soon  discovered  a  large  body  of  Indians 
stationed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  Wish 
ing  to  find  the  commanding  officer,  and  supposing 
him  to  be  there,  she  set  out  to  cross  the  river,  and 
just  aa  she  arrived  at  the  bank,  an  old  Indian 
stepped  ashore.  He  could  not  talk  English,  but 
requested  by  signs  to  know  where  she  was  going. 
She  signified  that  she  was  going  to  cross  ;  when  he, 
supposing  she  intended  to  deliver  herself  up  to  them 
as  a  prisoner,  kindly  offered  to  carry  her  and  her 
child  across  on  his  back.  But  she  refused  to  be  car 
ried.  He  then  insisted  upon  carrying  her  child  ;  to 
which  she  consented.  The  little  girl  cried,  and  said 
"  she  didn't  want  to  ride  the  old  Indian."  She  was, 
however,  persuaded  to  ride  him  ;  and  they  all  set 
out  to  ford  the  river. 
18 


206  BURNING    OP  ROYALTON. 

Having  proceeded  about  half  way  across,  they 
came  to  deeper  and  swifter  water ;  and  the  old  In 
dian,  patting  the  mother  upon  the  shoulder,  gave 
her  to  understand  that  if  she  would  tarry  upon  a 
rock  near  them,  which  was  not  covered  with  water, 
till  he  had  carried  her  child  over,  he  would  return 
and  carry  her  also.  She  therefore  stopped  and  sat 
upon  the  rock  till  he  had  carried  her  daughter  and 
set  it  upon  the  opposite  shore,  when  he  returned 
and  took  her  upon  his  back,  lugged  her  over,  and 
safely  landed  her  with  her  child. 

Supported  by  a  consciousness  of  the  justice  of  her 
cause,  braving  every  danger,  and  hazarding  the 
most  dreadful  consequences,  not  excepting  her  own 
life  and  that  of  her  children,  she  now  sat  out  to  ac 
complish  her  object. 

She  hastened  to  the  commanding  officer,  and  bold 
ly  inquired  of  him  what  he  intended  to  do  with  her 
child.  He  told  her  that  it  was  contrary  to  orders 
to  injure  women  or  children.  "  Such  boys  as  should 
be  taken.7'  he  said,  "  would  be  trained  for  soldiers, 
and  would  not  be  hurt." 

"  You  know/7  said  she,  in  reply,  "  that  these  little 
ones  cannot  endure  the  fatigues  of  a  march  through 
the  vast  extent  of  wilderness  which  you  are  calcu 
lating  to  pass.  And  when  their  trembling  limbs 
shall  fail  to  support  their  feeble  bodies,  and  they 
can  no  longer  go,  the  tomahawk  and  the  scalping 
knife  will  be  the  only  relief  you  will  afford  them. 
Instead  of  falling  into  a  mother's  arms  and  receiv 
ing  a  mother's  tender  care,  you  will  yield  them  into 


BURNING  OP  ROYALTON.  207 

the  arms  of  death,  and  earth  must  be  their  pillow 
where  the  howling  wilderness  shall  be  their  only 
shelter.  Truly  a  shelter  from  a  mothers  tears,  but 
not  from  the  jaws  of  wild  beasts  or  a  parent's  grief. 
And  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,"  added  she,  "  were 
you  possessed  of  a  parent's  love,  could  you  feel  the 
anguish  of  a  mother's  heart  at  the  loss  of  her  first 
born,  her  darling  son,  torn  from  her  bosom  by  the 
wicked  hands  of  savage  men,  no  entreaties  would  be 
required  to  obtain  the  release  of  my  dear  child." 

Horton  replied,  "that  the  Indians  were  an  un 
governable  race,  and  would  not  be  persuaded  to 
give  up  any  thing  they  should  see  fit  to  take.'7 

"  You  are  their  commander/'  continued  she,  "  and 
they  must  and  will  obey  you.  The  curse  will  fall 
upon  you  for  whatever  crime  they  may  commit ;  and 
all  the  innocent  blood  they  shall  here  shed  will  be 
found  in  your  skirts  'when  the  secrets  of  men's 
hearts  shall  be  made  known  ; '  and  it  will  then  cry 
for  vengeance  on  your  head ! " 

Melted  into  tears  at  this  generous  display  of  ma 
ternal  affection,  the  infamous  destroyer  felt  a  relent 
ing  in  his  bosom,  bowed  his  head  under  the  weight 
of  this  powerful  eloquence  and  simple  boldness  of 
the  brave  heroine,  and  assured  her  that  he  would 
deliver  her  child  up  when  the  Indians  arrived  with 
him.  The  party  who  took  him  had  not  yet  returned. 
When  he  arrived,  Horton,  with  much  difficulty,  pre 
vailed  on  the  Indians  to  deliver  him  up.  After  she 
had  gained  possession  of  him,  she  set  out,  leading 
him  and  her  little  girl  by  the  hand,  and  hastened 


208  BURNING   OF   ROYALTON. 

away  with  speed,  while  the  mingled  sensations  of 
fear,  joy,  and  gratitude  filled  her  bosom.  She  had 
not  gone  more  than  ten  rods  when  Horton  followed, 
and  told  her  to  go  back  and  stay  till  the  scouting 
parties  had  returned,  lest  they  should  again  take  her 
boy  from  her.  She  accordingly  returned,  and  tarried 
with  the  Indians  till  they  all  arrived  and  started  for 
Canada,  While  she  was  there,  several  of  her  neigh 
bors'  children,  about  the  same  age  of  her  own,  were 
brought  there  as  captives.  Possessing  benevolence 
equal  to  her  courage,  she  now  made  suit  for  them  ; 
and,  by  her  warm  and  affectionate  entreaties,  suc 
ceeded  in  procuring  their  release.  While  she 
waited  for  their  departure,  sitting  upon  a  pile  of 
boards,  with  the  little  objects  of  charity  around  her 
holding  fast  to  her  clothes,  with  their  cheeks  wet 
with  tears,  an  old  Indian  came  and  took  her  son  by 
the  hand,  and  endeavored  to  get  him  away.  She  re 
fused  to  let  him  go,  and  held  him  fast  by  the  other 
hand  till  the  savage  monster  violently  waved  his  cut 
lass  over  her  head,  and  the  piercing  shrieks  of  her 
beloved  child  filled  the  air.  This  excited  the  rage 
of  the  barbarous  crew  so  much  as  to  endanger  her 
own  and  the  lives  of  the  children  around  her,  and 
compelled  her  to  yield  him  into  his  hands.  She 
again  made  known  her  grievances  to  Horton,  when, 
after  considerable  altercation  with  the  Indians,  he 
obtained  her  son,  and  delivered  him  to  her  a  second 
time,  though  he  might  be  said  to  "fear  not  God  nor 
regard  man."  Thus,  like  the  importunate  widow 


BURNING  OF  ROYALTON.  209 

who  "  troubled  the  unjust  judge,"  this  young  woman* 
obtained  the  release  of  nine  small  boys  from  a 
wretched  captivity,  which  doubtless  would  have 
proved  their  death.  She  led  eight  of  them  away, 
together  with  her  daughter,  all  hanging  to  her  own 
clothes  and  to  each  other,  mutually  rejoicing  at  their 
deliverance.  The  other,  whose  name  was  Andrew 
Durkee,  whom  the  Indians  had  carried  to  the  house 
of  Mr.  Havens,  was  there  released  according  to  the 
agreement  of  Horton  with  Mrs.  Hendee,  and  sent 
back  on  account  of  his  lameness. 

Being  told  that  the  great  bone  in  his  leg  had 
been  taken  out  in  consequence  of  a  fever  sore,  an 
old  Indian  examined  it,  and  cried  out,  "  No  boon ! 
no  go ! "  and,  giving  him  a  blanket  and  a  hatchet, 
sent  him  back. 

Mrs.  Hendee  carried  two  of  the  children  across 
the  river  on  her  back,  one  at  a  time,  and  the  others 
waded  through  the  water  with  their  arms  around 
each  other's  neck.  After  crossing  the  river  she 
travelled  about  three  miles  with  them,  and  encamped 
for  the  night,  "  gathering  them  around  her  as  a  hen 
gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings."  The 
names  of  the  children  who  were  indebted  to  her  for 
their  release  from  the  savage  tribe  were  Michael 
Hendee,  Roswell  Parkhurst,  son  of  Captain  Eben- 
ezer  Parkhurst,  Andrew  and  Sheldon  Durkee,  Jo 
seph  Rix,  Rufus  and Fish,  Nathaniel  Evans, 

and  Daniel  Downer.  The  latter  received  such  an 


*  Mrs.  Hendee  was  at  this  time  ag«d  twcaty-eeren  years. 

18* 


210  BURNING  OP   ROYALTON. 

affright  from  the  horrid  crew  that  he  was  ever  af 
terwards  unable  to  take  care  of  himself,  wholly  unfit 
for  business,  and  lived  for  many  years  wandering 
from  place  to  place,  a  solemn  though  silent  witness 
of  the  distress  and  horror  of  that  dreadful  scene. 

Mrs.  Hendee  now  (1818)  lives  in  Sharon,  where 
the  author  visited  her,  and  received  the  foregoing 
statement  of  this  noble  exploit  from  her  own  mouth. 
It  is  also  corroborated  by  several  gentlemen  now 
living,  who  were  eye  witnesses. 

She  has  buried  her  first  and  second  husbands,  and 
now  lives  a  widow,  by  the  name  of  Moshier.  Her 
days  are  almost  gone.  May  her  declining  years  be 
crowned  with  the  reward  due  to  her  youthful  deeds 
of  benevolence.  She  has  faced  the  most  awful  dan 
gers  for  the  good  of  mankind,  and  rescued  many 
from  the  jaws  of  death. 

In  view  of  the  exceeding  riches  of  that  mercy 
which  has  protected  her  through  such  scenes  of 
danger,  may  she  devote  her  life  to  the  service  of  the 
mighty  God,  and,  at  last,  find  a  happy  seat  at  the 
right  hand  of  Him  "  who  gave  himself  a  ransom  for 
all."  And  thus  let  the  children  who  "are  indebted 
to  her  bravery  and  benevolence  for  their  lives  "  rise 
up  and  call  her  blessed."  Gratitude  forbids  their 
silence ;  for  to  maternal  affection  and  female  hero 
ism  alone,  under  God,  they  owe  their  deliverance 
from  savage  cruelty.  The  boldest  hero  of  the  other 
sex  could  never  have  effected  what  she  accomplished. 
His  approach  to  the  savage  tribe  to  intercede  in  be 
half  of  those  defenceless  children  most  surely  would 


BURNING  OF   ROYALTON.  211 

have  brought  upon  himself  a  long  and  wretched 
captivity,  and  perhaps  even  death  itself. 

The  Indians,  having  accomplished  their  nefarious 
designs,  returned  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Havens  with 
their  prisoners  and  the  plunder  of  houses  which 
they  had  devoted  to  destruction.  Here  was  the 
place  where  they  had  commenced  their  ravages. 
The  old  man,  as  before  observed,  having  concealed 
himself  under  a  log,  at  the  time  he  espied  the  Indians 
in  the  morning,  while  hunting  for  his  sheep,  still 
remained  in  sorrowful  silence  undiscovered.  He 
had  considered  it  unsafe  to  move,  as  a  party  of  the 
crew  had  continued  there  during  the  day,  and  had 
twice  come  and  stood  upon  the  log  under  which  he 
lay,  without  finding  him. 

After  collecting  their  plunder  together,  and  dis 
tributing  it  among  them,  they  burned  the  house  and 
barn  of  Mr.  Havens,  and  started  for  Canada.  It 
was  now  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  They 
carried  off  twenty-six  prisoners  from  Royalton,  who 
were  all  delivered  up  to  the  British  as  prisoners  of 
war. 

They  all  obtained  their  release,  and  returned  in 
about  one  year,  except  Adan  Durkee,  who  died  in 
camp  at  Montreal. 

Twenty-one  dwelling  houses  and  sixteen  good  new 
barns,  well  filled  with  hay  and  grain,  the  hard  earn 
ings  of  industrious  young  farmers,  were  here  laid  in 
ashes  by  the  impious  crew.  They  killed  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  head  of  neat  cattle,  and  all  the 
sheep  and  swine  they  found.  Hogs  in  their  pens  and 


212  BURNING   OF  BOYALTON. 

cattle  tied  in  their  stalls  were  burned  alive.  They 
destroyed  all  the  household  furniture  except  what 
they  carried  with  them.  They  burned  the  house  of 
Mr.  John  Hutchinson  ;  and  giving  his  wife  a  hatchet 
and  a  flint,  together  with  a  quarter  of  mutton,  told 
her  to  "go  and  cook  for  her  men."  This  they  said 
to  aggravate  her  feelings,  and  remind  her  of  her 
forlorn  condition. 

Women  and  children  were  left  entirely  destitute 
of  food  and  every  kind  of  article  necessary  for  the 
comforts  of  life,  almost  naked,  and  without  a  shel 
ter.  Wandering  from  place  to  place,  they  beheld 
their  cattle  rolling  in  their  blood,  groaning  in  the 
agonies  of  death,  and  saw  their  houses  laid  in  ruins. 
Disconsolate  mothers  and  weeping  orphans  were 
left  to  wander  through  the  dreadful  waste,  and 
lament  the  loss  of  their  nearest  friends,  comfortless 
and  forlorn. 

The  Indians  took  away  about  thirty  horses,  which 
were,  however,  of  little  use  to  them,  but  rather 
served  to  hinder  their  progress.  Their  baggage 
was  composed  of  almost  every  article  commonly 
found  among  farmers  ;  such  as  axes  and  hoes,  pots, 
kettles,  shovels  and  tongs,  sickles,  scythes  and  chains, 
old  side  saddles,  and  bedticks  emptied  of  their 
feathers,  warming  pans,  plates,  and  looking  glasses, 
and  indeed  nearly  all  kinds  of  articles  necessary  for 
the  various  avocations  of  life. 

On  their  return  they  crossed  the  hills  in  Tun- 
bridge,  lying  west  of  first  branch,  and  proceeded  to 
Randolph,  where  they  encamped  for  the  first  night, 


BURNING  OP  ROYALTON.  213 

near  the  second  branch,  a  distance  of  about  ten 
miles.  They  had,  however,  previously  despatched 
old  Mr.  Kneeland,  a  prisoner  whom  they  considered 
would  be  of  the  least  service  to  them,  with  letters 
to  the  militia,  stating  that  "  if  they  were  not  fol 
lowed  the  prisoners  should  be  used  well ;  but  should 
they  be  pursued,  every  one  of  them  would  be  put  to 
death." 

The  alarm  had  by  this  time  spread  through  the 
adjacent  towns  ;  and  the  scattering,  undisciplined 
militia  shouldered  their  muskets,  and  hastened  to 
pursue  them.  They  collected  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
Evans,  in  Randolph,  about  two  miles  south  of  the 
encampment  of  the  Indians.  Here  they  formed  a 
company,  consisting  of  about  three  hundred  in  num 
ber,  and  made  choice  of  Colonel  John  House,  of 
Hanover,  New  Hampshire,  for  their  commander. 
They  supposed  the  Indians  had  gone  to  Brookfield, 
about  ten  miles  from  that  place,  up  the  second 
branch.  With  this  expectation  they  took  up  their 
march  about  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  hoping  they 
should  be  able  to  reach  Brookfield  before  light,  and 
make  them  prisoners.  They  had  scarcely  started 
when  the  American  front  guard,  to  their  utter  sur 
prise,  were  fired  upon  by  the  rear  guard  of  the 
enemy.  Several  fires  were  exchanged,  and  one  of 
the  Americans  wounded ;  when  Colonel  House, 
through  cowardice  or  want  of  skill,  commanded 
them  to  halt  and  cease  firing.  He  then  ordered 
them  to  make  a  stand,  and  kept  them  in  suspense 
till  the  Indians  had  made  their  escape.  To  hasten 


214  BURNING   OF   ROYALTON. 

their  flight,  the  savage  tribe  were  compelled  to 
leave  at  their  encampment  a  considerable  quantity 
of  their  plunder,  nearly  all  the  horses,  and  made 
good  their  retreat. 

Here  they  killed  two  of  the  prisoners,  by  the 
names  of  Joseph  Kneeland  and  Giles  Gibbs.  The 
former  was  found  dead,  with  his  scalp  taken  off,  and 
the  latter  with  a  tomahawk  in  his  head. 

At  daylight  Colonel  House  courageously  entered 
the  deserted  camp,  and  took  possession  of  the  spoil ; 
but,  alas !  the  enemy  were  gone,  he  knew  not  where. 
Urged  by  his  brave  soldiers,  who  were  disgusted  at 
his  conduct,  he  proceeded  up  the  second  branch  as 
far  as  Brookfield,  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy,  and,  not 
finding  them,  disbanded  his  men  and  returned. 

Had  Colonel  H.  possessed  courage  and  skill  ade 
quate  to  the  duties  of  his  station,  he  might  have  de 
feated  the  enemy,  it  is  thought,  without  the  least 
difficulty,  and  made  them  all  prisoners.  His  num 
ber  was  equal  to  that  of  the  enemy,  well  armed  with 
muskets,  and  furnished  with  ammunition.  The  ene 
my,  though  furnished  with  muskets,  had  little  ammu 
nition,  and  were  cumbered  with  the  weight  of  much 
guilt  and  a  load  of  plunder.  They  had  encamped 
upon  a  spot  of  ground  which  gave  the  Americans 
all  the  advantage,  and  their  only  safety  rested  in 
their  flight.  The  American  force  consisted  of  un 
disciplined  militia,  who  promiscuously  assembled 
from  different  quarters,  but  were  full  of  courage, 
animated  by  the  principles  of  justice,  and  determined 
to  obtain  redress  for  the  injuries  they  had  received 
from  the  barbarous  crew. 


BURNING   OF   ROYALTON.  215 

Many  of  them,  likewise,  had  friends  and  connec 
tions  then  in  possession  of  the  Indians,  to  obtain 
whose  freedom  they  were  stimulated  to  action.  But, 
alas!  their  determination  failed,  their  hopes  were 
blasted.  They  were  forced  to  relinquish  the  object, 
and  suffer  their  friends  to  pass  on  and  endure  a 
wretched  captivity.  They,  however,  forced  the  In 
dians  to  leave  the  stream  and  take  their  course  over 
the  hills,  between  the  second  and  third  branch,  which 
brought  them  directly  and  unexpectedly  to  the  house 
of  Zadoc  Steele,  whom  they  made  prisoner,  and 
took  to  Canada. 


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